Review Summary: And I felt some way I'd never felt/And I wanted to share it with someone else.
Is Chris McCaughan alright?
One has to ask such a blunt question after listening to an album like Four One Five Two. It’s an album that feels like you’ve accidentally stumbled upon a conversation someone is having with themselves in the mirror, one that is diving so far inward that the vulnerability reflected back is deeply unnerving. Few albums, if any, have sounded as lonely as Four One Five Two. In a way, I felt like I had such a genuine, personal connection to McCaughan despite having never met him. For me, this album felt like a true companion during my college years because it provided a face to the loneliness that I repeatedly felt during that time. By this point, I was heavily entrenched in the folk phase of my music exploration, so Four One Five Two hit me at the perfect time in more ways than one. Though the acoustic guitar takes center stage here, McCaughan does a great job of preventing the album from sounding too one note by switching up the pace throughout, alternating between the fiercer strumming found on opener “Steal Your Words” and “The Sea of Lights” (the latter recalling his work with The Lawrence Arms) and the the more reflective, meditative plucking of closer “Audio Geography” and “Midsummer Classic.” There are fleeting moments of surprise that added some beauty to the record, like the delicate piano notes on the stunner that is “Midsummer Classic” or Jenny Choi’s background vocals and cello work on “This War is Noise.”
All of this perfect complements the primary focal point of the album: Chris McCaughan’s lyricism. I remember multiple times walking across campus late at night by myself, dialed into McCaughan’s words and delivery on a song like “Endless Miles,” feeling understood. Lines like “And since I’ve got nowhere to go, I guess I’ve got nowhere I have to get to” from “Endless Miles” and “I feel nothing, I want nothing, I am nothing” off of “Self Portrait” felt like anvils being placed on my chest. Closer “Audio Geography” might have the perfect summation of how I felt at times throughout my college experience and even for years after I graduated with the lines “I found myself alone in the museum/And I felt some way I'd never felt/And I wanted to share it with someone else.”
Four One Five Two is an album that feels like a companion for your most vulnerable inward ruminations, but it can also serve as a pivotal reminder that you are not alone in how you’re feeling, in spite of what you may tell yourself. Every now and then it’s nice to have that kind of reminder at your disposal.
