Review Summary: Come dream with me
One of the underexamined consequences of aging is that it completely warps your perception of time. Most of us can recall how summer seemed to last forever as a child, but as an adult the calendar pages all blur together. Hell, it’s been eight whole years since I relished
Can’t Wake Up’s eerie, starlit atmosphere, yet the moment that ‘Counting Sheep’ first gave me chills still feels like it was only a couple months ago. If
Fondness, etc. is any indication, Alejandro Rose-Garcia senses this phenomenon as well, and explores it in depth through his music. The artist’s fifth full-length album is a stripped-down work that also functions as a total creative reset on the heels of 2023’s sleek indie-pop; the lukewarmly received
Movie of the Week. In rather stark contrast,
Fondness, etc. buzzes with tender lo-fi imperfections and hazy edges that make the whole thing crackle. It’s all very dreamlike, washing over you with warmth and proximity in a way I haven’t felt since perhaps Lord Huron’s
Long Lost. There’s a magic to this that simply can’t be manufactured – listening to it is akin to sinking into a fond memory, and with that the record’s title suddenly makes sense.
As my wife and I casually strolled up the stone path that led into the heart of the beach town we were staying in, the air was heavy. It was July and we were on our honeymoon, and it was the kind of oppressive heat that makes the simplest things feel like exercise. We were seeking out a unique breakfast experience, and stumbled upon a quaint building with vines growing up the side. Perched on a ledge by the front door was a colorful songbird that my wife was able to name at the time, but now it escapes me. We took a seat in the backyard of the restaurant, at a black metal table that seemed to only magnify the heat of the still young day. On the patio, a man quietly strummed an acoustic guitar, picking at the strings with a grace and elegance that was perhaps partially imagined thanks to the lovestruck atmosphere, but that has nevertheless become lore now in my mind. To this day I remember that morning, and that place, as one of the most peaceful moments of my entire life. Things simply couldn’t get better than they were at that time. Some people look back at such memories with longing, almost regret, that whatever life they’ve fashioned since then doesn’t quite compare. I think that we should be grateful if we ever have moment so fond, a distillation or representation of a specific time that we can always look back upon and realize that it was perfect.
Fondness, etc. might be the closest I’ve come to reliving that moment. Rose-Garcia’s guitars here ring out with pristine clarity, yet sound so far away – as if they’re echoing through time. There’s no shortage of tranquil, intimate moments here, but the one that sticks out to me every time I spin this is ‘I Once Was An Ocean’ – a brilliant five minute instrumental track that feels equidistant to both a tropical island and an old Western movie. Songbirds serenade the opening seconds before Rose-Garcia’s melodic chords take over like a tour guide through all of your most cherished recollections. I can’t listen to it and
not lose myself; its transfixing and transportive, a masterclass in atmosphere capable of sweeping me from even the most hectic junctures of my day. It’s the same way I feel about the aptly titled ‘Time Flies’, which swells with rich, flourishing strings that amorously intertwine with sweeping, soulfully cascading guitar chords swaying with a gorgeous, lush ambiance. Rose-Garcia’s voice doesn’t dominate, instead becoming one with the surrounding bliss and willingly fading into it. If there were to be a musical equivalent to how I felt that on that balmy morning many years ago, the pairing of these songs together might just be it.
Fondness, etc. remains abuzz with breathtaking melodies, experimental textures, and minimal tones for the majority of its nine song duration, ensnaring you within its beautiful mini-world. ‘The Boilermaker’ has a toe-tapping beat born of muted bass drums, subtle claps, and driving rhythmic guitars. ‘Don’t Change a Thing’ is bluesy and yearning, led by its proximal front porch acoustic vibe, distantly wailing synths, and a warm, embracing chorus. The instrumental track ‘Suddenly’ feels like traveling through time, replete with distant, disorienting clock bells/chimes striking at random. I could wax poetic about every individual track here, because they all possess their own innately unique and alluring traits, but I also believe that part of
Fondness, etc.’s mystique comes from simply letting it wash over you for the first time with no prior assumptions. It may take some time to sink in, but it will. By the closing ‘No Place to Be’, it feels like snapping back to the present – the dreamy guitars are replaced by raw, organic strums, and Rose-Garcia’s voice feels just a tad crisper. He sings, “Well, I ain't got no place to be / Might as well take in the scenery / As long as you're right here with me / Then this life will finally be easy”, and I look up from my laptop. The morning sun is coming through the curtains, and I hear little footsteps awakening upstairs. It's no longer ten years ago, surrounded by sun and salt-rich air, but somehow this precise moment feels just as perfect – maybe just a little different.
The tricky thing with looking back fondly on the past is that no matter how nice it feels, it’s best not to dwell there for too long. It keeps you from living in the present with the same ardor, fashioning newly perfect moments to add to the emotional scrapbook. It sounds like idealism, and it is, but if that isn’t at least what we should be
pursuing, then I’ve lost the plot. And maybe that’s not the worst thing that can happen in this crazy world. Chasing the fantasy is all we can do…so come dream with me.
