(Track from album, "Cerulean Salt")
In suitably Pixies fashion, "Cerulean Salt" plays like an album should. These don't feel like radio hits strung together and sold in an aesthetically pleasing bundle with filler material - no, this is more like a full, hour-ish long single track; an independent entity; an album that exists with almost total singularity from other noise full stop. This said, Waxahatchee is not exactly a singles project, so that whole #1-singles-all-over-the-place feel of the album's track-listing isn't really possible anyway.
As such, and again, bearing similarity to the Pixies (and even bands like New Order and Joy Division) not everyalbum track is awesome. This is a good thing though; it means that there's a very experimental, emotionally explorative feel, one which is actually a lot easier to enjoy than the psychological effort I make it sound.
Even when laid back however, the mind is incessantly probed by the sonic oddity of this whole affair. The grungy wave of bass-driven guitars, drowns the soul in dark lyrical themes, swamped in melancholia and draped in the delicate tone of Katie Crutchfield's vocals. This atmosphere, both sinister and soothing, encapsulates the madness to be had from real human emotion, presenting it's listener with a deep insight into emotional songwriting and one that is varied enough and juxtaposing in places so as to successfully emulate the changeable nature of said emotions. All the while, there is a consistency to the overall aesthetic so that there is still a recognisable pattern running through - the icing on this bizarre cake (if you can even call it that)...
I find myself now in an interesting position with regard to this entry - writing a review for an album track is always difficult though, because you end up talking about the theme and feel of the whole album, which I've done here. 3 paragraphs in before mention of the song...oh my...
Well, "Brother Bryan" is the best of these songs, chiefly because it summaries the sound of "Cerulean Salt". It opens with a dense, crunchy bass-line, one so cavernous and consuming that I had to have bass reducer EQ settings switched on when listening to avoid unholy levels of distortion. The vocal lurches in simultaneously with the single best opening line I have heard so far this year; 'I said to you on the night that we met I am not well' - if that doesn't grab you in conjunction with the Kim Deal/Krist Novoselic lovechild bass-line, then I don't know what will. The dark analysis of a love seemingly passed on, riddled with cab-sharing and smoking money away continues for the duration, with acute observations on the early bedtimes of parents hitting hard and thoughtfully - "Brother Bryan" definitely had "Cerulean Salt"'s sharpest lyrics, though the others are strong too. Waxahatchee's words areconsistently thought-provoking and dangerous steps in a minefield of brainless pop - perhaps it's this that sets her so far apart from teeny-bop anthems and #1 slot. Just to add to the darkly smooth, sonic perfection, the percussion thumps with violent grace behind, lolloping rhythmically and accompanying the harsh realism of the words beautifully.
Whilst the song never takes off into fully fledged, multi-instrumental territory, there are still changes and moves that keep you interested - these songs are, as I say, tid-bits, snippets, bites of sound - together they are the album. "Brother Bryan" is the strongest to the degree that it can be listened to by itself, though I hugely recommend "Cerulean Salt" as a package - a worthwhile foray into contemporary post-grunge, emotional and genuinely pleasing to the ears despite it's macabre mood. To sum up: mightily and meatily melancholy - go on, you know you can't resist some of that...
★★★★★
Versions of “Brother Bryan”
Album Version - 2:36