An appreciation for film is arguably the most common first step in uncovering and eventually admiring the arts. Contrary to the conventional uses of music, photography, or painting, children are exposed to both educational and entertaining films at an early age in order to maximize their general perception of morals, social interaction, and social norms. At this early age, art is hardly an afterthought. Guardians use film to make their children more socially aware, and mainly to safely occupy them without putting much effort forth. The same could be said for something like finger-painting or children’s music, but kid-centric films remain the norm in introducing children to media for the first time. The others do not have the capacity for upheld interest when the child is older. When they grow of age and begin to examine the audible and visual creations around them, film is naturally the first form of art that many gravitate towards. Complex intricacies involving camera angles, music theory, and color schemes are not found within the arts until further investigation regardless, but to capture an essence of childhood in-depth is perhaps more rewarding than an interest that peaked around one’s pre-teens, which is most often the case with music or painting. There are always exceptions, which are what most of us like to call prodigies, but there are few truly talented artists that undervalue the function of film, whether it is used to complement their music or paintings, or simply enjoyed as a hobby.

I have featured dozens of artists that got their start by scoring music for low-budget films; The Western States Motel, Camphor, and The Leisure Society are just a few that come to mind. Apart from producing stellar music, they share a common bond in the narrative appeal of their songs. All of their recent albums have been at least slightly conceptual, whether it was The Leisure Society’s fascination with occupied time or Camphor’s infatuation with wabi sabi (a Japanese conceptual belief that true greatness exists in the inconspicuous details of our world and true beauty can only be discovered in life’s imperfections). Neither of these thematic approaches relates to film, but as groups with experience in both film and songwriting they have an increased capacity to interweave various experiences to result in an enhanced narrative for their music. For filmmakers this could result in more effective sound design for their films. These artists have found the proper divide in differentiating and unifying the uses of audible and visual art, leading to results that are more frequently successful than those with a minimal externally artistic influence. Although their appreciation for film is only found through their name to the naked eye, Noah and the Whale possess the same narrative prowess that most songwriters seem to foolishly neglect.

Taking their name from Noah Baumbach’s excellent 2005 film The Squid and the Whale, Noah and the Whale profoundly express an appreciation for film’s ability to simulate dramatic real-life experiences into a comforting, occasionally humorous depiction. This is what Baumbach’s The Squid and the Whale did so gracefully, which is perhaps why the London-based quartet chose their name as an ode to its flawless approach. Their sophomore album, The First Days of Spring, also plays with a funny little thing we call human emotions in a way that relieves the heartbreak, loneliness, and general sullenness of a life without authentic fulfillment. This is also a common theme among the films of Wes Anderson, another filmmaker that Noah and the Whale have publicly displayed their adoration for. The four-piece has already caught the attention of Baumbach, so I would personally be shocked if these guys are not featured in a film by the end of next year. The First Days of Spring clarifies this sentiment entirely, as it plays like a feature film from beginning to end. It is almost like a soundtrack to one of the quirkiest, but also ardently effective, films of the year. That sounds like a film by Baumbach or Anderson to me. You can expect them to be proclaimed the next big thing when either of them features the group in a movie… it seems pretty imminent at this point.

The group’s debut, Peaceful, the World Lays Me Down, last year was undoubtedly impressive, but when listening to The First Days of Spring and looking back on it the debut seems like such a menial affair. This is such an expansive, mature release that it only vaguely resembles the group that put out one of last year’s more impressive debuts. The fascinating thing here is the album’s progression, shifting from barren folk tracks like “Our Window” to the cinematic orchestras in “Instrumental I” and “Love of an Orchestra” with precision. It does not sound forced nor desperate, but rather an example of how this is a group that clearly values conceptual themes. For a track like “Our Window”, lead vocalist and songwriter Charlie Fink puts on his best Matt Berninger impression by mumbling subtly brilliant lyrical progressions in a deep baritone that resonates with elegance over his evolving folk melodies. “I Have Nothing” and “My Broken Heart” are in the more single-worthy category with their soulful accessibility. The former is particularly reminiscent of the acoustical, pop-minded tracks of the group’s debut, recalling the melancholic practice of unfaithfulness as Fink pleads for his beloved to walk with him on “a new spring morning”. Rebirth, reconciliation, and rejection are all common occurrences in Fink’s work. “Come back to me, my darling,” he pleads. “I’d do anything to be at your side.”

“My Broken Heart” is perhaps the album’s shining moment, not wasting a moment over its five-minute span with a perfect mixture of guitars, strings, and a voice that is powerful enough to make anything sound convincing. “Broken hearts are a fickle thing and complicated too,” Fink sings. “I thought I believed in love but I’ve never seen it through.” After lamenting that he never married the girl he loved, he resorts to a technique that most songwriters in the indie-folk genre are reluctant to use: the power of optimism. “But I’ll be laughing again,” he sings before the emergence of a triumphant horn. The track picks up into an expansively rewarding evolution here, leaving room for the gracefulness of strings and eventually a guitar solo that wraps this gem up beautifully. This ingenious use of additional instrumentation, particularly the emergence of brass, is particularly reminiscent of Andrew Bird, another immensely gifted songwriter with a knack for narrative bliss. But comparisons are insulting for a band that has released something as memorable as The First Days of Spring. For as the name of this album entails, Noah and the Whale have experienced a rebirth in which their music resonates with a sense of emotional authenticity that is only believable from the mouths of children. But with music as heartfelt, genuine, and excitable as this, no one can doubt the progressive talent of Noah and the Whale.

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Noah and the Whale – My Broken Heart

Download audio file (noah-myb.mp3)

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Noah and the Whale – I Have Nothing

Download audio file (noah-iha.mp3)

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Noah and the Whale – Love of an Orchestra

Download audio file (noah-lov.mp3)

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Distinction will never be an issue for Wild Beasts. With a voice like Hayden Thorpe’s, it almost seems as if the English four-piece could put any arrangement under his dramatic delivery and the result would sound great. A stylistically distinctive vocalist can bring a new group soaring to great heights, as a natural ability like this tends to compensate for musical richness and cumulative innovation among critics that are satisfied by stylistic ambition alone. Luckily for new artists like these, the rampant tendency of critics to proclaim an artist as the next big thing based on stylistic accomplishments alone leads to recognition that is often undeserved (though this plight is common in the music industry regardless). There is often a disregard for the effectiveness of songwriting and cohesiveness of the respective release, prompted by a certain characteristic embedded in the artist’s sound that drastically separates them from their influences and contemporaries alike. In music, compensation for the insufficient is a manipulative process that results in artists either reaching their pinnacle or becoming forgotten by any indication of a fan base. Certainly there are some artists that dabble in perfection and never need to undergo this developmental process, but in this day and age where creativity is dampened by an excess of influences it is hard to look past a style that either creates feelings of extreme detest or excitable captivation among its listeners.

Unlike most other indie-rock newcomers, Wild Beasts probably were not the most desperate for a fan base right away. Most groups that successfully hearken back to a nostalgic style hardly are. It would be easy to slide Wild Beasts into a grouping that includes British Sea Power, Glasvegas, and perhaps even Franz Ferdinand. While Wild Beasts are generally darker and more distinctive in tone, these are all acts that wear their influences on their sleeves, showing no reluctance to bring out theatrical vocals in the vein of Queen or Sparks over eerie guitar progressions deriving from ‘80s post-punk. Classifying British Sea Power and Franz Ferdinand in this niche may be a slight reach though, as their roots tend to be more reflective of this decade’s art-rock push than the somberness of post-punk. Their voices though, whether it is Alex Kapranos or Yan, tend to emit a similar croon that is both deep in its audible and figurative meaning. The difference between these groups and Wild Beasts is quite simple though. The groups like Franz Ferdinand have lately striven for commercial access, releasing perfectly capable material in that regard but hardly breaking through any stylistic boundaries. Wild Beasts are so impressive because they are devoid of this pop-fueled desire, instead opting for the teary-eyed dramatics that made legendary post-punk acts like The Chameleons UK, Joy Division, and Billy Mackenzie so memorable. This authenticity is one of the reasons why their songwriting may be overlooked, which would be positive if they were generic songwriters. As it turns out though, the work on their new album is exceptional.

The most quirkily enjoyable thing about Wild Beasts is the juxtaposition of their varying influences. Thorpe’s lead vocals are strongly reminiscent of the quivering cries for help that Billy Mackenzie made famous in the realm of post-punk, but their music often hints at lights of optimism that are rare in a genre that encompasses such an enjoyably sullen haze. But while Thorpe makes post-punk the most oblivious practice on their second album, Two Dancers, but their tendency to use unconventional practices like chirpy guitar progressions or exhilaratingly anthemic choruses is what creates their signature sound. They are able to reach into the depths of sadness without coming across as melodramatic, just as they are able to scale the dizzying heights of pop elegance without coming across as too desperate for fame and fortune. These tendencies result in a sound that borrows neither too much from the past nor excess from the present, resulting in a sound that is fresh and engaging without being classified into the ridiculously flexible genre of art-rock. Two Dancers is a tremendous growth in development from Wild Beasts’ 2008 debut, Limbo, Panto, that sees the four-piece expanding upon a nostalgic sound that is revitalized by fresh pop hooks and an unforgettable voice that reminds us of a few musical treats from the decade of greatest excess, the ‘80s.

Falsettos have recently been tied to comedy or musical spoofs, with most artists too afraid of the delicate tactic to actually implement it into their sound. It seems to come natural for Thorpe though; he flawlessly flaunts it on practically every song. Like Antony and the Johnsons though, it is perfect for the style. “Hooting & Howling” contains just enough energy to show off Thorpe’s ability, but maintains the lush and relaxed composure of the general album with steady percussion and sporadic piano additives. Thorpe retains a sort of seductiveness that pertains more to the revolutionary performers of the ‘50s, even if the African-inspired percussion and thick guitar progression sound distinctively from within the past 25 years. This is him at his most upbeat, effortlessly eluding the stereotyping of melodramatic post-punk with a youthful, finger-snapping impression that prepares their style for a generation full of romanticized drama kings and queens. “When I’m Sleepy” or “All the King’s Men” is more apt for that sort, being more direct in their respective descriptions of death and desperation over mumbled vocals that weep and yelp over anguished guitar lines. The bass lines are subtler than typical post-punk, but the dramatics of the distorted guitars and weep-y vocals are still there, stuffed with pop-oriented theatrics that make the style more accessible for those somewhat opposed to the dramatics of Joy Division or The Cure. “We Still Got the Taste Dancing on Our Tongues” finds Thorpe’s most theatrical crooning uplifted by guitar tremolos and sprinkles of haunting keys that coincide with his vocals to craft a sound that is as elegantly uplifting as it is haunting and serene. And this is what Two Dancers is; it serves as phenomenal album that quickly follows up a debut to prove that Wild Beasts are more than clever stylistic imitators. Most importantly, it shows that they are great songwriters and producers in their own right, leading to the credibility of all forthcoming recognition.

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Wild Beasts – Hooting & Howling (video)

Download audio file (wbeasts-hoo.mp3)

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Wild Beasts – All the King’s Men

Download audio file (wbeasts-all.mp3)

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Wild Beasts – We Still Got the Taste Dancing on Our Tongues

Download audio file (wbeasts-wes.mp3)

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It is nice to see a talented artist receive recognition, even if it is in one of the dullest forms of advertising. Car commercials are possibly the most repetitive line of advertisements on television, with it being difficult to differentiate between brands due to their similar presentations: a car is driving along a road with some “hip” background music, usually followed by text or a booming voice attempting to sell its allure. The purpose seems driven toward audible and visual compatibility more than anything, so its generic tendencies are usually dominated by eye candy. As a result though, music plays an important role as it does with any form of visual-based advertising, having the potential to attract viewers that are not drawn to the repetitive visuals that encompass most car commercials. This is the single reason why the new Volvo XC60 commercial caught my eye, or more appropriately my ears. Over some simple footage, I heard a song that sounded familiar yet fresh and exciting. The vocals were so distinctive with their nasally elegance, lamenting over twinkles of synths and bursts of orchestral brilliance that sounded too irresistible for me to pass up. Its familiarity caused me to look up the song in the commercial, only to found out that it was someone who I had featured over two years ago. Not only had Volvo made me remember the name of a product I would have otherwise disregarded, but it also allowed me to stumble upon a new album from an artist I had featured, loved, and foolishly neglected following up on two years later.

As I wrote two years ago, Salem Al Fakir’s debut full-length, This Is Who I Am, was one of the most enjoyable albums of 2007. It was a debut that sounded like it was crafted with decade’s worth of experience, staying true to the clever vein of Swedish pop that the native Al Fakir appeared to flawlessly grasp. Even in that accessible realm though, the album showcased a wonderful display of worldly influences as Al Fakir successfully integrated soul, blues, and psychedelic-pop into a sound that could be most aptly described as orchestral chamber-pop with dabs of nostalgic throwbacks. Retro-y synths and showtune-like orchestral accompaniments often set the stage for large presentations that Al Fakir’s soaring voice and confident presence fit perfectly in. With most Swedish pop, the hooks were unavoidable and the style was appropriate. It is a difficult debut to follow up on, as there is such little to improve. But, unsurprisingly in regard to a musician of Al Fakir’s talented nature, he has accomplished something extraordinary by becoming more stylistically ambitious without sacrificing the accessibility of his earlier material. Al Fakir has cut off his last name from the release, but Salem’s new album, Astronaut, is unmistakably from the same talented artist that put out one of 2007’s best.

As Salem explores territory uncharted to him and most surveyors of pop, Astronaut is a fitting choice for a second album that finds Al Fakir resorting to a fuller sound that showcases his pop intellect more precisely and without hesitation. Also in accordance with the album’s title, Astronaut features many songs that are futuristic in their composure, whether they pertain to the evolving genre of dance or orchestral-pop. Since Salem already showed he could successfully interpret the ‘70s and ‘80s on his debut, it only makes sense for him to gravitate toward the future. Perhaps this is why Volvo was so enthused with his music. The song featured in their commercial, “It’s Only You, Part II”, blends minimalism with full-bodied orchestral experimentation, the former being present in the constantly rhythmic use of keys and the latter arriving in the song’s explosive chorus. Here, Salem beautifully erupts “I need to figure out how this can be so hard for me when it shouldn’t be,” over a boisterous chorus of strings. “To get you off my mind, it’s only you I think about.” The track seems to sparkle in grace as it plays, constantly evolving from its minimalistic basis to an intricately woven gem.

The narrative allure of “Astronaut” and “Black Sun Black Moon” retell similar stories of orchestral heartbreak, but apart from that Astronaut is a pretty excitable release that is dominanted by pulses of synths, heavy percussion, and even glam-rockers. “Twelve Fingers” mixes arena-rock with synth-pop, sporting an excellent bridge where an exotic synth line cohesively ushers in the subsequent guitars. “One of the Others” and “Bluest Eyes” both succeed in the realm of blue-eyed soul tremendously, with the latter’s country-ish twang being one instance of Salem’s tendencies to unconventionally mix and match different genres. Unlike most of the other tracks on the album, “Cold Shower” has no counterpart in its piano-pop. The dominance of keys and Salem’s flamboyant demeanor awakens comparisons to Elton John, and Salem’s undeniable ability causes “Cold Shower” to sound like a lost hit from the ‘70s. Just try and listen to the reggae-inspired chorus without grinning in delight. Another interestingly rewarding track is the phenomenal “Purple Lady”, a sprawling beauty of an effort that is also the most downtrodden on the album. The sheer darkness and oddness of the track seems to bring out a Stravinsky influence, either that or film music if Disney ever made a horror movie. One has to commend Salem for including a track this dark on an album full of excitable oddities in pop; this is a track that epitomizes Al Fakir’s ambitious strides.

Apart from the brooding orchestral ballads, blue-eyed soul, and synth-pop minimalism, Astronaut is even an album that contains some stylistic mockery. Its second single, “Roxy”, seems to take pride in its cheesiness. “I feel a burning sensation in the region below,” is how Salem begins the song, establishing its purpose in being more humorous than musically impressive. If you can remember how The Darkness spoofed ‘80s hard-rock then this should sound familiar, complete with the falsettos and predictable choruses. I am not sure why the weakest track musically on the album is being chosen as the second single, especially since showcases style that is distant from everything else on this fantastic release. The dramatic charges of synth in “Twelve Fingers” or the infectious indie-pop of “Mirror” would be more appropriate, as would the graceful “It’s Only You (Part II)” or the irresistible “Cold Shower”. Regardless, the only track lacking in complete and utter infectiousness on Astronaut is one that is intended purely as a mockery, providing indication of this album’s greatness. Al Fakir has followed up one of the best debuts of 2007 with an album that is undoubtedly one of 2009’s best. This is a must-buy for any fan of pop music; there is something on here for everyone. 8.5/10

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Salem – It’s Only You (Part II)

Download audio file (salem-its.mp3)

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Salem – Cold Shower

Download audio file (salem-col.mp3)

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Salem – Twelve Fingers

Download audio file (salem-twe.mp3)

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I don’t even know how to use it yet, but Obscure Sound is on Twitter here. Same thing as a RSS feed, I guess.

Another day, another elusive electronic artist from Sweden. It seems like I have come to expect the small country to dominate the realm of innovative electronic-pop, mainly due to its roster of impressive acts that show no hesitation to incorporate sampling and stylistic multifariousness into gorgeously intricate, yet accessible electronic music. Some Swedish artists, like Sally Shapiro and Pacific!, chose a throwback approach that capitalized upon the italo-disco explosion in Europe during the ‘80s. Others, like The Tough Alliance and The Knife, churned out a more modernistic style of electronic-pop that found its sentiments more rooted in updated techniques like sampling, genre manipulation, and the glorification of youth. I classify these groups rather broadly due to their separable enigmas; their success is independent of one another due to styles that are undoubtedly their own (even if they are occasionally indebted to styles of the past). One of the most buzzed-about Swedish groups last year was Air France, a group that took sampling and electronic-pop to extraordinary heights with an EP that retained its summer-y vibe similarly to that of another landmark electronic album from this decade, Avalanches’ Since I Left You. Its ability to incorporate sampling, irresistible pop hooks, and unconventional production techniques was echoed in Air France’s No Way Down EP, serving as an indicator of just how great Sweden has treated the emerging genre of sample-based electronic-pop since its emergence.

Despite consistent successes that range from Sally Shapiro to Air France, there is often a divide between throwback electro-pop artists and those that opt for modernisitically stimulating techniques like sampling in their sound. Both types of artists have shown tremendous staying power in Sweden and abroad, but there are not many artists that are able to simultaneously capture heartfelt nostalgia and contemporary sparkle in Sweden and elsewhere. To successfully infuse these two styles together would undoubtedly result in something big, as the buzz surrounding artists like Air France and Shapiro was big enough alone to warrant their reputable statuses. Perhaps it is a coincidence that most of these Swedish electronic artists play the shy card, leaving little personal information for fans to swallow and enjoy. A simple discography is often the only thing that coats their official site, as is the case with JJ. I admit that I have little information regarding this Swedish whiz, but what I can offer are a few tracks that show JJ as one of the supreme forces in current Swedish electronic-pop. With that in mind, it is no surprise that JJ sits aside similarly entitled artists like The Tough Alliance and Air France on one of Sweden’s best and most consistent labels, Sincerely Yours.

One aspect that artists on Sincerely Yours seem to share is a vibe that is distinctively reminiscent of summer. The Tough Alliance’s infusion of reggae into electronica on tracks like “Looking for Gold” or Air France’s sampling of ocean waves and childish laughter over spright synths certainly attributes to this, but both artists’ sense of capriciousness within an accessible and determinably innovative style is more responsible for this enjoyable vibe. JJ unsurprisingly captures similar sentiments, leaving little room for balladry or rockers with a presentation that sits in between the throwback pop of Sally Shapiro and the contemporary electronica of artists like Air France or The Tough Alliance. JJ’s new album, JJ N° 2, also explores territory that shows an appreciation for world music, evident in the African percussion in the aptly titled “From Africa to Málaga”or the twinkling allure of Afro-pop inspired vocal minimalism over the fluttering acoustics and keys in “My Love”. The expansion of horizons is one reason to enjoy JJ N° 2, but its primary allure is in the cumulative stylistic brilliance presented on the album. The vocals are almost always present, more reminiscent of throwback electronic-pop than sample-based pop experimentation. Here, though, it works wonderfully with female vocals that are lush enough to echo the Cocteau Twins but ardent enough to resonate within fans of Sally Shapiro or even ABBA.

When one combines the lush but ardent vocal performances of JJ with each and every song’s grace and beauty, it results in an album that will undoubtedly receive praise as one of the most accomplished electronic releases of the year. I am hard-pressed to call an album flawless, but the album’s faultless style and short length leave little room for mistakes. The 27-minute run time makes it seem too short, even though the nine tracks pack enough punch to keep listeners captivated for quite awhile. The opening “Things Will Never Be the Same Again” shows this off quite well, sporting strings and African-inspired percussion over twinkling keys to establish a glittering glimpse into a tropical paradise where only the inspired roam. For the less serious, “Ecstasy” is a cover of Lil’ Wayne’s “Lollipop” that finds JJ turning an excitable track into an ethereal and subdued experience; this is the type of cover that does not detract from the album one bit though, exposing JJ’s style as one that does not require specific cliches within the genre of ethereal electronic-pop in order to be successful. The reflective “Intermezzo” is also a deserving standout, truly serving to its name in being an instrumental that gracefully represents JJ’s style and presence as one that cannot easily be forgotten.

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JJ – Things Will Never Be the Same Again

Download audio file (jj-thi.mp3)

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JJ – From Africa to Málaga

Download audio file (jj-fro.mp3)

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JJ – Intermezzo

Download audio file (jj-int.mp3)

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Artists that write from a retrospective view often do it for good reason. It is a characteristic that can carry into their music, since reflecting upon one’s experiences with a modernistic mindset can provide aid for their struggles in the present. In the case of songwriters, artistic difficulties are encountered rampantly throughout one’s career regardless of their natural ability. Plenty of them have astounding potential, but an emphasized swagger and impatience can cause a disturbance in their artistic development. If an enlarged ego prevents them from reflecting upon past failures in addition to the triumphs then they will never move forward and develop fully as an artist. The name Barzin may sound foreign to most of you at the moment, but their newest release shows an artist that is wholly receptive to tackling past errors and altering them for the better. A mysteriously vague songwriter from Toronto, Barzin H. has been active since his group’s self-titled debut in 2003. He actually began writing material in 1995, but perfectionism did not allow the results to flourish until the following decade. Their debut was generally impressive, showcasing a fascination with minimalism and classical folk that seemed to beautifully complement Barzin’s ethereal vocals. His potential was blatantly evident, but the album seemed to lack the emotional depth that was intended for it. But, with Barzin as a retrospective songwriter, slight deficiencies simply gave him more material to derive his current strengths from.

Like most gifted songwriters with a knack for reflection, Barzin significantly improved upon his debut release by expanding his style of minimalistic folk into an empowering blend of indie-rock, chamber-pop, and country. My Life in Rooms, his 2006 follow-up, was melancholic like the debut. But the improvements were evident; the results were more polished and the songwriting contained clever maneuvering that made the results more unpredictable and, consequently, rewarding in a sense that most sadcore indie-rock acts strive toward. This vein of sadcore indie-rock – occupied by acts like Low, Red House Painters, and American Music Club – rewards a certain amount of emotional unpredictability, as varying ardency translates as a more realistic depiction of tragedy than melodramatics and inaudible weeping. This, along with an implementation of varying styles, allowed My Life in Rooms to flourish as a possible indicator of Barzin’s future. The release showed that he might be one of those rare songwriters, the ones that are too genuine to exploit the common emotions involved in break-ups, deaths, or other tragedies.

Barzin released another EP, Just More Drugs, in 2007 that featured re-done versions of My Life in Rooms tracks like “Just More Drugs” and “Leaving Time, but it proved to only serve as an appetizer for the main course, this year’s Notes to an Absent Lover. While not completely devoid of the somber material on his earlier releases, Barzin’s third full-length manages to inject a bit of optimism in his work to provide a cohesive balance between tear-soaked pillows and chin-up ideologies. The album’s thematic focus is still bleak, as most albums that deal centrally with break-ups are, but Barzin never attempts to exploit the topic with over-production or lyrical gripes. It would be easy to over-produce an album like this, with its wide assortment of strings and vibraphones, but Barzin instead opts for quality over quantity in building each of his songs up until additional instrumentation is beckoned for. Also, unlike the stereotype that surrounds most sadcore music, Barzin is not hesitant to tie in interweaving themes into his work. Notes to an Absent Lover is not all moping, it is an emotional journey where Barzin personally acquaints the listener with his pulsing emotional vibrancy.

“Nobody Told Me” is an apt way to open the album, basically serving as a metaphor for Barzin’s artistic growth from the time of his debut to the release of Notes to an Absent Lover. It begins somberly with nothing more than an acoustic guitar and piano, but its expansion into a full-grown accompaniment of strings, percussion, and electric guitars finds Barzin repeating one key phrase throughout the track, altering his emotional delivery each time out. “Nobody told me forgetting could be so hard,” is what he repeats, solidifying the album’s theme as he says it first in somber fashion before sounding somewhat triumphant over the gradual additions of strings. Melissa McClelland’s backing vocals are also a wonderful addition, giving the listener additional solace in Barzin’s empathetic delivery. Unlike his earlier releases, a track like this shows developmental expansion; Barzin now builds like these with the whole picture in mind, rather than simply one good idea.

“Stayed Too Long in This Place” touches the elegant moods of groups like Cousteau, placing a balmy mixture of pianos and strings as Barzin laments over the blame issued in a break-up, singing “I’m always in love, some days in despair, it’s always the same” over violins, viola, and a double bass. A perfect atmosphere for some bleak thoughts, just as Barzin intended. “Soft Summer Girls” is delicate in its instrumentation like the rest, but provides a reprieve from the typical content as Barzin instead nostalgically reflects upon the positive effects of relationships. And although he sings of times being passed and gone, he acknowledges love as a force that can aid one in life’s hardest battles. “They take me away from the one I used to know,” he sings, perhaps eluding to the outstanding capacity that Notes to an Absent Lover has to comfort those in tragedy and take them away into a realm of acceptance, emotional comfort, and quality music.

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Barzin – Nobody Told Me

Download audio file (barzin-nob.mp3)

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Barzin – Stayed Too Long in This Place

Download audio file (barzin-sta.mp3)

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Barzin – Soft Summer Girls

Download audio file (barzin-sof.mp3)

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