Wendy Eisenberg’s astonishing, vitalising self-titled album submits a personal growth. Post-breakup (yet produced, literally, by love: in collaboration with Eisenberg’s new partner Mari Rubo (More Eaze)), the album lays out the paths to maturity and understanding.
The paths are bumpy, no matter how plain they may appear to others. They are hopelessly difficult to navigate, particularly when the navigator is perplexed by their sense of self; what they are, what they aren’t, what they struggle to convey, whether their character fits into the story of another, their nonbinariness, their sexuality, their musical language.
Logged in a dream state, the album’s need for self was also inspired by Eisenberg’s move to Brooklyn, their youth, PTSD and sexual assault.
I adore the numerous shapes the album forms, launched by these bumpy paths, their adventure. Wendy’s background is in avant-folk and chamber/jazz improv; the album find ways to be brave without focussing too much on the avant-garde, whilst remaining experimental and varied.
A string arrangement announces a dream state on Take a Number, before later states of being range from possessed – Eisenberg jauntily wits their way around syllables on Curious Bird – to poised – their understanding of time and betterment is served by an old country singer on Will You Dare.
The journey to acceptance is complex, proclaimed by The Ultraworld’s jazz chord progressions, appearing in an olde folk setting, proclaimed by Vanity Paradox’s unsettled chorus, with improvised drums and strings.
The journey alternates madly within single songs. Meaning Business combines Space Oddity guitars with flamenco licks. Violins and violas harken country alongside. Wendy acknowledges the intense length of their path as they keep the chorus going in an act of vital persistence.
The verses of Another Lifetime Floats Away are similarly persistent but scattered, travelling with less a sense of coordination as slide guitars insist on another country tune. Slides reappear on It’s Here, as do cloudy instrumental textures that saddle on top of each other like pileups of woodland animals, as do heart-stopping chords on the third lines of each verse.
On Old Myth Dying, falsettos frolic to spite their fear, much like its latter string arrangements. Gentle bass notes slump downstairs. An unrelaxed guitar simply juggles adjacent notes.
To guide yourself on the journey to self-acceptance, all you need is vast songwriting smarts, a cacophony of influences to home, and an intimate singing style with little makeup, purveying the naturalness of storytelling, of gathering an audience around.
Best tracks – Meaning Business – Old Myth Dying – It’s Here.
Rating – 8 out of 10
