Review Summary: Kristian Matsson finally leaves the nest.
Growth can be a bittersweet process that is simultaneously beautiful and difficult to watch. It is simply a part of life that cannot, and should not, be avoided. For musicians, periods of growth often bring great change and cause polarization among audience members, which is why these moments can be so pressurized; artists straying too far from their original sound will likely face rejection by fans, while stagnation and resistance to change will leave listeners jaded and unamused. Over the course of his career, fans have watched Kristian Matsson, better known as The Tallest Man On Earth, bloom into an unmistakeable folk hero, identifiable by his trademark low-fi production and simple recordings usually consisting of only his guitar and strident, howling voice. As time progressed, it became increasingly clear that Matsson was slowly maturing and would soon expand beyond the winning, simplistic formula of his classics, Shallow Grave and The Wild Hunt, which were composed of rough, no-frills home recordings that seldom contained any overdubs; we saw him first spread his fledgling wings on There’s No Leaving Now with the subtle addition of layered electric and steel guitars, but the style of Matsson’s delivery remained intact. But there comes a time when every bird must leave the nest, and The Tallest Man’s most recent release, Dark Bird Is Home, sees Matsson in full flight. Equipped with a full-fleet of instrumentation and a newly-heightened production quality, Matsson boldly abandons his signature sound and takes a much more lush and atmospheric approach to his song arrangements.
Upon first listen, some may deem the sound of Dark Bird Is Home as almost unrecognizable as a Tallest Man album. While his previous albums were defined by a balance between deftly-fingerpicked and loud, cathartically-strummed acoustics as the backbone of his compositions, Matsson’s latest work finds his guitar playing in the back seat, buried beneath layers of synths, horns, and drums. And there are pieces of Matsson’s sound missing on Dark Bird that may upset some listeners. There was a key feeling of honesty in the simplicity of Matsson’s earlier music in which Matsson’s identity and abilities were made clear without the disguise of added instruments or fancy recording techniques; he continually poured his heart out with his voice and guitar behind a microphone, unravelling poetic tales of adventure and loss. Much of this open, authentic feeling is lacking on Dark Bird Is Home, as Matsson’s musical meekness is lost in the album’s expansive, slick production.
But while the newly-added instrumentation of the album may seem to shroud Matsson’s identity from view, this record is deceivingly personal in nature; with Dark Bird, Matsson beckons the listener’s ear a step closer, demanding a deeper focus in which he unfolds his tales of seclusion through cryptic poetry. Gone is the shrill cry of Matsson’s voice, as it is traded for a much more subdued vocal style that, at times, seems to tremble with the sorrow parallel to the wounded nature of the album’s lyrics; these new songs show Matsson in his most vulnerable state as he comes to terms with the troubles that ensue after a great loss. This is clear in songs like “Sagres”, in which he croons, “It's not the sting of cities flickering in life, no / It's not me knowing there's a deeper in the dust, no / It's not the reasoning with shadows that are gone, no/ It's not me knowing I'm yet to see fire / It's just all this ***ing doubt”. Although often obscure and enigmatic, Matsson’s lyrics continue to be as much of a strong point as they were in the past. The Tallest Man’s music has always possessed a far deeper quality of mysticism that had previously been masked by the simplicity of his traditional folk aesthetic; his lyrics, while always written in the English language, seem to belong to another world, a quality that the more dreamlike production of Dark Bird Is Home suits quite well.
While Dark Bird is clearly a sonic departure from his previous studio efforts, it is much less a change in identity than a natural progression of sound. Forgoing the simplistic charm that earned the ears and hearts of listeners worldwide, Matsson unearths new discoveries on this LP as he digs deeper within himself, expanding his palette beyond had previously seemed possible in his music. Songs like “Singers” and “Beginners” are slightly quieter, more polished displays of Matsson’s trademark fingerpicking style, while “Darkness of the Dream” ushers in powerful full-band arrangements, finding Matsson in his most enthused, bold moments yet. With The juxtaposition between songs makes Dark Bird Is Home Matsson’s most dynamic release to date without sacrificing continuity or flow.
Despite its inevitably polarizing nature, Dark Bird Is Home has inevitably skyrocketed Matsson into a new phase in his career as a musician in which he has abandoned all sonic limitations and revealed himself to possess a much more complex identity than his previous albums would suggest. Despite its overbearingly downtrodden lyrics, the album reveals itself to be a beacon of hope in its final moments; on the title track, Matsson’s quiet mumbles of “No, this is not the end. No, this is fine,” over his solitary guitar playing are met with a wash of lush, full-band instrumentation at the song’s climax that signifies the change that Matsson has undergone with this album in a condensed fashion. The song sees Matsson rising from his isolation in an uplifting stride, maybe even unwillingly, as his anticipatory utterance of “Oh, ****” right before the band kicks in would suggest. Here, The Tallest Man On Earth stands a little bit taller as he spreads Dark Bird’s wings, soaring into musical adulthood. This is why the album is potentially the most important release in Matsson’s catalogue, and will stand as a leap of faith into the unknown from which few artists seldom return.
