Review Summary: “I can’t remember the words to say”
With each new release, Julia Holter comes closer to bridging the gap between the worlds of pop and the avant-garde. Her latest album, "Have You In My Wilderness," strikes a perfect balance between the two genres, and the results are truly an experience to listen to.
The adventure begins with “Feel You,” a song that transports the listener right into the middle of the action. Holter’s vocals punch every syllable, and as she sings about figures passing and glimpses of scenes, you get the sense that you’re rushing through a city with a trustworthy stranger. It’s an incredibly accessible single, a fact that may come as a surprise to fans who best know her for her more obtuse work. But even those who prefer her more experimental outings will find plenty to love on this release.
Holter’s previous album, "Loud City Song," expanded on a single theme, but "Have You In My Wilderness" plays out more like a series of dreams. Accordingly, the emotional tones vary drastically. On “How Long?” she sings in a lower register atop brooding strings, conjuring a moroseness reminiscent of Nico’s "The Marble Index." At the opposite end of the spectrum is “Everytime Boots” which boasts a faux-honky-tonk shuffle that creates a jauntiness that’s new to Holter’s music. Somehow, these disparate emotions come together to form a cohesive listen.
As always, Holter’s music toes the line between pretentious calculation and pure human emotion. “Sea Calls Me Home” for example, is one of the brightest and loosest songs she’s ever written, yet every word and musical flourish is perfectly placed. Even “Vasquez,” which forgoes logical structure in favor of a more ambient atmosphere, feels purposeful and perfectionist. On that song, she cobbles together spoken-word, random noise bits, and free-form jazz to create a moving vibe. It’s a heavenly combination of Stereolab at their dreamiest and Talk Talk in their later days.
Every moment here is incredible, but to not highlight the masterpiece that is “Lucette Stranded on the Island” would be a crime. It’s one of the most elaborately constructed, lyrically intensive, and elegantly produced songs I’ve heard all year. It opens with a disorienting clatter of bells, followed by Holter’s vocals which are sung in a soft and hushed manner. The verse builds and builds, but at the climax, instead of exploding into an enormous chorus, the music descends towards calmer territory. Violins sigh softly, and drums plod and crash like waves on a beach. As she sings the refrain “oh she’s been marooned, can anybody help her?” background vocals swoop and soar. She repeats the phrase “the birds can a song” with interjecting lines of dialogue delivered lavishly. Her lyrics depict a vague scene of a woman and man, and she repeats certain phrases until they are burrowed into your subconscious. The sound continues to rise until out of nowhere the song stops, concluding the journey.
With each song, Holter takes her music to new and foreign places. At first, “Silhouette” seems relatively straightforward with pretty vocals and a pleasantly stuttering drum beat. But the ending sends the listener into a near unmelodic sound passage. She performs a similar trick on “Everytime Boots” with a mixture of swirling vocals and violins in place of what should be a bridge. The way she interrupts the flow of logical pop structures reminds me of Perfume Genius’ work in the way that both artists seem to reach points where they are unable to convey their feelings in words, and instead break into an instrumental yell.
“Night Song,” one of the slower moments on the album, showcases Holter at her most vulnerable. The music is sparse, leaving no layers for her voice to hide. Here she repeats the phrase “what did I do to make you feel so bad?” and although we may never know who she is addressing, it’s impossible not to sympathize with her pain. Similarly, “Betsy on the Roof” opens with few instruments save for a piano. Lyrically, the song plays out like a scene from a movie where Holter is crying out to a loved one on the verge of suicide.
The hymnal title track closes the album by bringing you out of Holter’s dream world and into reality. The instrumentation is spare, and Holter sings in a loving and reassuring tone. That is, until an ominous piano enters the song, and she begins to sing “tell me why do I feel you running away?” She sings this over a weeping violin, her voice growing more and more desperate until the song reaches its end.
"Have You In My Wilderness" is an experience, and Holter’s most fully realized work to date. Each song sounds gorgeous on its own, but even better in the context of the rest of the album. With this release, she has channeled all of her obscure influences into a singular and emotional statement of monumental proportions. It’s hard to imagine how she’ll be able to follow this, but I thought the same thing about "Loud City Song" when it first came out. There’s no doubt that she’ll continue to impress in the years to come.
Essential Tracks: “Feel You,” “Lucette Stranded On the Island,” “Night Song”
