Review Summary: Delicate, slow, warm, and yet; longingly cold - just in time for the end of autumn
It’s poetic in a way, the self-titled release from Californian rock band The Autumns saw a departure from the sound that the band had been building upon with former releases. Their mixtures of dark and dramatic shoegaze infused with delicate, sweeping orchestral arrangements were trimmed down to a condensed, simpler alternative rock sound that wasn’t previously part of the band’s image. The new sound, composed of Matthew Kelly’s sweeping Jeff Buckley-inspired vocals and a plethora of smooth guitars, dramatic arpeggios, and melancholic violins almost captured the essence of the shifting tide of autumn to the harsh winter rather fluently.
The inclusion of making the album a self-titled as the ideal “reinvention” of their image plays ironically into their history from there on out. With financial woes and label disputes coming in left and right, these things would ultimately cut the band loose with a quiet whimper shortly down the road. It’s in both sound and image where the poetry of the changing of seasons drives itself home. Minutes into the intro track
The End, one that quietly begins with the steady flick of a guitar and Kelly solemnly crooning; sees a slow, but sure forming of a calm autumn feel with each passing progression until it hits its halfway point. From there, the track kicks into a new gear with choppy and disruptive distorted guitar riffs.
The chemistry between Matthew Kelly and the instrumentation speaks loudly through his long-holding falsetto notes that he sweeps through the chaotic buzz. Kelly’s belting displays the aforementioned shifting tide in a simplistically engrossing way that is as charming as it is warring. Latter tracks follow in a similar suite to
The End, as they each present themselves as calm and welcoming with their introductions before ascending into a far more powerful and often chaotic plane of composition. It’s a format that The Autumns use to the most memorable of advantage with condensed and sound composition that allows for Kelly to take over and control of the track and drive his performance and the instrumentation home flawlessly.
Other tracks, such as
Slumberdoll and
Every Sunday Sky sit comfortably in a charming manner. With sweeping violins that play hand-in-hand with Kelly’s powerful falsetto and low-key crooning in digestible small packages. Finally,
Cattleya, a track that best represents
The Autumns as a whole. It’s condensed with the layered strumming of acoustic guitars, a plucky bass, sparse synths, a drawn out piano motif, and twinkling keys that each play a role in creating a firm foundation that concludes with a powerful shoegazey outro.
The only missteps that
The Autumns takes are with it’s three interludes. They drone on with no indicative idea of what they’re essentially doing with their time, only serving as empty arrangements that turn what could be a 10 track classic into a slightly off-mark 13 track soundtrack to a late autumn night. In the end, everything that The Autumns use to their advantage they use it to the fullest. With delicate instrumentals, warm vocals, and longingly cold climaxes
The Autumns is an album that deserves all the recognition it unjustly never receives.
