Review Summary: Epic, emotional, and largely unknown, Andrew Judah has crafted one of the most pleasant surprises of the year.
Who is Andrew Judah? In the wake of
Impossible Staircase, 2020 should be the last time you’re forced to ask that question. Rarely does such a sweepingly powerful and experimental indie-pop album come out of nowhere. This record is
tense, sprawled out upon a bed of theatrical art-rock that lands somewhere between The Dear Hunter’s progressive songwriting and Sufjan Stevens’ melodramatic leanings. The trait that Andrew Judah shares with these more renowned artists is his fearless vision; this appetite for grandiosity that is both structurally complex and melodically accessible. It’s an album that is designed to steal the show, and it does so with ease.
Judah’s voice is where the experience starts and ends. Andrew’s power and range is everything to
Impossible Staircase, making its dramatic heights and wild detours possible. It’s strange to think that a vocalist you’ve probably never heard of could rival the Andy Hulls and Casey Crescenzos of the world, but if ever there was a voice destined for the big stage, it’s Andrew Judah. The man can transition from epic climaxes to sullen, evocative vignettes in a matter of seconds, and although
Impossible Staircase never abuses those talents to the point of absurdity, it makes damn certain that we know Judah’s voice is the vessel carrying the music. He’s a rare talent – and without that foundation to build upon,
Impossible Staircase – despite all its pomp and frills – never gets off the ground.
Since it does, though, let’s talk about those frills – because the production here is downright fantastic. Judah is surrounded by the best possible blend of instrumentation to help foster an atmosphere that is tuneful yet sophisticated. Guitars wail but never shred, strings surge to dramatic emotional extremes, ghostly choruses
ooh and
aah in the background, and chimes rattle hauntingly in the wind. With Judah’s mighty vocals commanding the attention of the entire room, each complementary aspect of the music is afforded a chance to brilliantly shimmer. There’s a level of discipline and balance amid all the theatrics that prevents
Impossible Staircase from ever derailing, a testament to Andrew and co-producer Caleb McAlpine, who together take this swirling vortex of sounds and turn it into a lush, bombastic, and dynamic final product.
What truly separates
Impossible Staircase is its nuances. Judah has a gift for taking songs to the next level – a trait that seems indefinable on the surface but that becomes more vivid on tracks like ‘I’ve Had Enough of Your Shit!’, where he transforms a visceral rejection of drug addiction into a haunting soul/gospel outro. It’s not simply where he takes the songs, either; it’s how he’s able to magnify certain moments in order to elevate their emotional affect or aesthetic impact. For instance, his inflection change when he sings “little by little you’re slipping away” on the groovy ‘Best in Show’ – preceded by a bold riff injection – exemplifies how he’s able to convey emotion through musical context despite what are fairly pedestrian lyrics. Judah achieves this kind of effect routinely, but the most
unexpected case comes via ‘Raise Me Up’ – which begins as easily the most structurally simple offering here, along with the glowing optimism of a U2 anthem – but magnifies the intensity with each refrain until it erupts into a splendorous brass/drum/guitar breakdown. You’ll also find that Judah’s voice has reached a fever pitch – a product of gradual elevation to the point where you’re not sure exactly
how the song became so damn poignant, only that it is.
That’s the magic of Andrew Judah, this raw ability to take what sounds like a straightforward indie-rock tune and very subtly contort it into something unique.
Thematically entrenched in the world of addiction,
Impossible Staircase serves not only as a cathartic vessel for the artist, but also one that is capable of lifting consumers out of comparably bleak scenarios. There’s a global angle to the storytelling in the sense that the consequences of addiction are covered from multiple angles: himself, those closer to the addicted subject, and said subject him/herself. Judah slyly alludes to the subject as “a person who is both the confident driver and the unwilling passenger”, and utilizes feedback loops to create a sensation of inescapability. The whole idea drew inspiration from an MC Esher painting titled
Ascending and Descending , which features a set of Penrose stairs which are endless – and thus dubbed “The Impossible Staircase”. This record’s multiple allusions to someone attempting to leave a place, person, or thing, only to return, further constructs Judah’s vivid concept – one that simultaneously crosses the planes of art, music, and addiction. Inspiration comes by way of the closing track ‘Primrose’, where Andrew sings that “your chains are imagined” before
Impossible Staircase is carried off towards the horizon by fluttering woodwinds.
Andrew Judah has checked off every box with
Impossible Staircase. It’s a momentous art-rock/indie-pop offering that swells with both pain and underlying optimism. The songwriting is impulsive and experimental, as it winds through eight songs that each possess their own DNA – never resorting to ham-fisted screams or predictable acoustic ballads. It’s a fine line that few artists can even toe, but that Judah tap dances upon. So, to revisit an earlier inquiry –
who is Andrew Judah? Well, it's not like solving an "impossible staircase" - he’s a talented vocalist and one of the most creative songwriters in the modern indie scene. How's that for some Canadian artist that you've never heard of?
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