Review Summary: A way too personal review for an electronic album by a writer who doesn’t know electronic music, like, at all
The specter of death looms large over
When The Quiet Comes. A little background, then. Leaving Laurel was formed in 2019 in Los Angeles as a duo of two men actively involved in various electronic scenes: Gordon Huntley and Pierce Fulton. Together, they crafted a well-received self-titled debut album, but Fulton passed away tragically a few months before the record’s 2021 release. Now,
When The Quiet Comes marks the follow-up, an attempt by Huntley to press forward while embracing the memory of his fallen bandmate - in his words, “making this record was my search to find purpose after Pierce passed”, and “this is the album I always hoped Pierce and I would make”.
The highest praise I can give
When The Quiet Comes is that, upon first listen, I intuitively understood it to be about the contemplation of hard truths, about the grieving process, and about moving forward as best you can - all without knowing any of the backstory of Leaving Laurel. As a fully instrumental album, that’s no small feat (even if the song titles do provide some hints of intent), but I suspect it has most to do with where I myself am at currently. Losing both my parents at relatively young ages within the last two years, my own life has been in a rough patch, to put it mildly, and the mellow beats and gentle piano which entwine the slowly-unfolding eight tunes of this album prove to be a suitable balm for my current psychic state.
Before delving into the music, a few (somewhat embarrassing) acknowledgements - feel free to roast me in the comments (Sputnik, I believe in you!). I’m far from knowledgeable about really any form of electronic music. Case in point, RYM identifies Leaving Laurel’s music as “ambient house” and “progressive house”, but I’ll have to take their word for it, as I’m still at the point in my electronic-listening journey where distinguishing between house and IDM is as difficult as it once was for my unadjusted ears to separate black metal from death metal. Additionally, I’d say the largest stumbling block towards my full appreciation of electronic music of all forms has been the generalized lack of direct emotional connection, given that most of my regularly-listened-to genres find a guy or gal expressing their feelings directly into a microphone while also playing an instrument. Such a sentiment is far from uncommon and is easy to mock, as it’s one of the provinces of “I was born in the wrong generation” Youtube commenters or some old dude saying that anything without a guitar isn’t “real music” (see Sting’s comments on AI in music just this week for a recent example), but if I’m being honest, summoning up for an electronic release the sort of sensation of shared feeling which helps a great indie folk album (for example) truly come alive is often a challenge, a few beloved electronic-based albums in my repertoire notwithstanding.
Here, though, Leaving Laurel have totally eviscerated any qualms I might have based on that last paragraph. Partly, this success is through crafting the type of somber but warm atmosphere more commonly delivered through the means of rustic folk or uplifting post-rock, and partly it’s through the regularly recurring piano motifs which my mind naturally gravitates towards, pulling me through the album, even as the beats and bloops add richness and texture to the journey. But, most of all, it’s that aforementioned feeling of recent grief, of trying to move forward as best one can after great loss, which seems to naturally attune me to this record’s wavelength.
The album’s first few songs are mellow, but the beats of tunes like opener “and those guardian angels carried you away” are positively robust compared to the even more sedate material which emerges later in the tracklist. Many of the finest moments on
When The Quiet Comes achieve a sense of stasis, the sonic embodiment of a moment suspended in time, and the songs only progress through the most gentle of meanderings - “better days to come” and “holding on like it’s the last time” are particularly pertinent examples of this. It’s that sensation which makes
When The Quiet Comes so compelling. It is indeed, well,
quiet, but it’s also a thoughtful and friendly spirit of its own, a contemplative mood piece which can be profoundly moving.
Overall, it seems fitting that Leaving Laurel released their latest record in the spring, with the blooming of plants for another year and the approach of higher temperatures and great weather. Yes, the subject matter here is often sad, and understandably so, but in the final analysis the darkest moments on this record still reach out a helping hand to the listener, and the sunnier segments hint at an emerging feeling of rebirth. The absolutely gorgeous closer “a love, a loss”, which closes with a series of distorted noises which recall a heartbeat, would be a lovely soundtrack to a funeral, sure, but the best kind of funeral, the kind in which the attendees concentrate on celebrating the life of the deceased, shed some tears, and then embrace each other with a smile, sharing a sense of connection and a newfound purpose to move onward. A little cinematic? Yeah, it’s usually not so easy in real life. For myself, even as time elapses, some days are better than others, and there are moments when the palpable sense of grief is stronger than ever, as if I’m only now finally processing the true gravity of the situation. But most of the time these days, things are alright - I’m charting my own path, doing my best to honor the memories of lost loved ones, and reliably smiling when I think of my deceased parents’ quirks and quips from over the years of two well-lived lives.
When The Quiet Comes can be critiqued for being a fairly one-note record, but, given context, I think that’s ok, and it’s a beautiful friend to have in this stage of my existence, full of warmth and hitting just the right notes when I’m in need of a particularly engrossing sonic reverie. I hope that this completed record acts as a similar presence for Gordon Huntley as well, providing a fitting tribute to his longtime friend and bandmate and helping to slowly ease his sense of loss as the days go by.
RIP Pierce Fulton.
