Wendy Eisenberg used to solely write love songs to their craft. Their model of a candy nothing? “Inform me I’ll write one other excellent thought.” The dedication of their lyrics was to a lifetime of creation, usually an inherently lonely one: “When I’m an artist, I may be beloved,” they sang on their 2021 album Bent Ring. Once they turned their quizzical eye in direction of “love songs,” it was largely to wince at their conventions. “Don’t take a look at me after I write little love songs/It’s embarrassing sufficient for me,” they sang. “It is a very superior type of torture/To write down a music in a style I hate.” I, um, love you too.
No matter else has occurred to the singer-songwriter and guitarist throughout their previous half-decade of livid productiveness, Eisenberg has very clearly fallen in love. The Wendy Eisenberg of Wendy Eisenberg is newly unafraid of affection songs, or not less than unembarrassed by their proclamations. They write about their newfound happiness with forensic curiosity and muted surprise, as in the event that they had been detailing a wierd genus of plant.
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A part of why Eisenberg could have hated the phrase “I like you” is that there’s nothing to take aside in it, and taking issues aside is their M.O. Eisenberg’s gaze breaks down massive concepts into dozens of smaller ones, in order that they wriggle freed from your comprehension. You possibly can name this course of deconstruction or defamiliarization, however a friendlier time period would possibly simply be wanting intently. On their new album, Eisenberg seems to be very intently. Take this lyric, from the rapt ballad “It’s Right here”: “One thing’s shedding its that means/Somebody’s holding my hand/Come on, take a look at me studying/There may be consolation in demand.” Is that this not the exact sound of studying to let go of nagging outdated fears of unworthiness?
No two Eisenberg data have sounded the identical: They’ve made fractured jazz data, shredding rock epics, banjo improvisations. To mine this expansive new territory, Eisenberg has turned to what they name “weirdo nation interpreters”—Richard Dawson, the Mekons, Joanna Newsom. On “Previous Fantasy Dying,” they mimic one among Newsom’s signature strikes on the harp, juxtaposing a syncopated line towards a straight 4/4, producing a dreamy pressure that by no means resolves.
Eisenberg’s compositional intelligence has a near-merciless high quality, zeroing in on emotions of calm and unsettling them. The flickering meter of “Self-importance Paradox” looks like a held breath, a tensed muscle, that doesn’t calm down till the lyric “These outdated wounds/Undeserved/Inform me that it issues,” which set off washes of main chords that appear like they’re dissolving the injuries in actual time.
The three greatest songs right here—“One other Lifetime Floats Away,” “It’s Right here,” and “Will You Dare”—are probably the most unguarded statements Eisenberg has ever made. Every one, at its core, is a paean, a devotional—a love music. “One other Lifetime Floats Away” lingers on the surreal depth of childhood reminiscence. In a single verse, Eisenberg is hiding whereas their father works; in one other, their mom makes them breakfast. In a 3rd, they’re 20 years outdated and behind the wheel, presumably driving towards or away from one other gig. Every verse ends with Eisenberg sighing the title, and the sense of loss is as inexplicable as it’s sharp.
