Review Summary: but nothing i try can abbreviate the time
While it can hardly be considered an artistic evolution or major sonic step forward,
11:11 exists as a worthy addition to the Pinegrove canon because of its refinements. The gentle, windswept textures of 2020’s
Marigold leaned more fully into the band’s acoustic and country sensibilities without fully capitalizing on their potential, leading to the more uptempo cuts like “Moment” or “Phase” carrying additional weight. For the most part,
11:11 doesn’t have this problem, as Evan Stephens Hall and company have attentively layered their more delicate moments and brought a more realized depth to the intentional meandering of their song structures. Where a song like “Alcove” would only be given forward motion in the final moments of its arrangement, the gargantuan “Habitat” is given free range to sink its roots down and climb up the walls of the listener’s heart. The band’s longest song to date, it somehow manages to make urgency and patience coexist, quickly reaching a dynamic peak within its first two minutes before gradually fading into bucolic ecstasy, birdsong and all.
11:11 flourishes when it takes its time like this, a stark contrast from the unnecessary and time-consuming slog of
Marigold’s closing track or the pointless ambience that closes the otherwise jaw-dropping “Moment”. In a strange twist, these patient sections have been improved by being tightened and given a more intentional focus, while also being spaced out more effectively. The vibrant pulse of “Alaska” is catchy enough on its own, but it serves as a vivacious change of pace following the heavenly final minute of “Habitat”. The band also make the astute decision to climb steadily higher peaks as the tracklist progresses, culminating in the powerful one-two punch of “Swimming” and “Cyclone”, which serve as a welcome exclamation point before “11th Hour” brings the listener back down to earth.
“11th Hour”, while pleasant enough, illustrates my biggest problem with the record as a whole, which is the band’s tendency to let certain songs and arrangements breathe, while arbitrarily not letting others come up for air. The more fully fleshed out ideas on display, such as “Habitat”, “Orange”, and “Swimming”, all build unforgettably toward impactful moments that showcase Hall’s masterful songwriting ability, and shorter songs like single “Respirate” are ironically cut off from their air supply right as they begin to spread their wings (also, the less we talk about that “when corona hit” lyric, the better). As “Alaska” proves, the track lengths are not the issue here, but rather the feeling of incompleteness, and the desire for just one more melody or progression that would truly make a track feel transcendent. Pinegrove’s greatest strength lies in their ability to conjure up the idyllic, centered atmosphere of the countryside, and they do this successfully only when they remember that nature ages in eons.
The unbelievable “Iodine” finds itself in awe of the passage of time, and is content to remain aware of the phenomenon, despite its habit of consuming everything in its path. Sunny, anxious, mournful, and delighted all at once, this masterpiece of a song manages to combine the composure of “Habitat” with the tenacity of “Alaska” to construct the album’s clear highlight, and my personal favorite Pinegrove song to date. Through a song like “Iodine”, Hall showcases his understanding of both the necessity of grief and the salvation of gratitude. It’s a shame that the entirety of
11:11 can’t communicate this same sentiment through its melodies, but it comes damn close when given the space.
