Review Summary: Time has a way of always winning the game
This reviewer’s life hasn’t been going so well lately. It may not be obvious to the denizens of Sputnik, as I’ve basically been as active on this site as ever, but that’s just because reviewing albums and more generally participating in the community here,has been an ideal distraction from everything else. Last week, my dad died, joining my mom, six months and twenty-six days apart, with both now gone just before I hit the age of thirty. Comparing terrible situations is counterproductive and also fundamentally rather stupid, but this would prove more comprehensible if they’d both have been caught in the same awful accident, instead it was simply both getting diagnoses of late-stage cancer fairly early in life. A bad dice roll, twice in a row. The blessing is, of course, that in each case we knew what was coming, giving the family a bit of time to process and the ability to have a whole bunch of quality moments with my parents in the final year. Nonetheless, though, as I sit here typing this review, in the house we’re clearing out to sell,
everything is just both shocking and overwhelming.
I know, I know,
this is a music site, as they say. I only go off on this somewhat self-pitying introduction because Canadian singer-songwriter Emma Worley’s debut album has found me in a vulnerable spot and went straight to the heart. Sure, there’s something banal about turning to a singer and a guitar (and in this case, a bevy of strings) when things are bleak, but it’s true.
Sentimalist is melancholy but warm-hearted, heart-on-its-sleeve but composed. It’s an album which fits in well with the Boygenius-influenced current indie folk landscape, but also does its own thing enough to stand apart, with Worley’s distinct lyrical voice and occasional strivings towards a chamber pop edge. Despite a handful of weaker moments, it’s a remarkable first effort and one that, perhaps only due to circumstance, perhaps not, I know I’ll hold close for quite a while.
The record’s first three songs set an extremely high bar. Opener “3.25” has a blunt depiction of planned suicide over a lilting melody, providing the listener with early evidence of Worley’s impressive songwriting ability. This is followed by “Swisher Sweets”, a classic sun-soaked coming of age reminiscence, perhaps the best tune here. Third song “Jigsaw” introduces a hint of country flavor, while also providing perhaps the lyric that strikes hardest for me: “how’d you let a goldfish die, how’d you let a decade go by?” A wounding reference to both past and present, it’s not overly complex, but touching and delivered with complete sincerity. It’s beautiful, and a real gut punch in my current state, nostalgic about almost everything.
The rest of the album is more of a mixed bag. All songs are quite good, but several don’t touch the quality of the opening trio, with tunes like “Guard Down” and “Dead Deer” not especially standing out on their merits. There are several late highlights, though, like the slow-paced “Power Play” and the wrenching closer “Homesick”, which match the near-perfection of the record’s early run. “Homesick” in particular deserves a little bit more analysis, as it’s both sad as hell and covers quite a bit of lyrical territory in its five minute runtime. Its “you can never go home again” perspective is painful, but feels deeply true all the same, and the beauty of its presentation is comforting in a strange way.
In conclusion, I feel vaguely guilty about getting too personal for a huge chunk of this review, putting “too much blood on the page”, as Brian Fallon would say. After all, this is an under-the-radar debut album, and as such, this is one of only a handful of reviews to appear online. Shouldn’t I focus on the music itself more? The flip side, of course, is that emotional connection is the lifeblood of folk music, and at the end of the day I can only write what I feel. Regardless,
Sentimentalist is an impressive first album, worth checking for anyone with a taste for folk or lighter indie music. I don’t know whether Emma Worley will remain in the underground forever or become the next Phoebe Bridgers, but I do know that this album has been on steady repeat during one of the toughest times in my life. And that’s a beautiful thing.
