Review Summary: Today I’ll be remembered, tomorrow just a dream
Low Roar has always created simply
beautiful music. For some artists, that adjective might represent the lofty height of praise, for Ryan Karazija’s long-standing project, it’s simply the baseline expectation. Writing this as someone who had the pleasure of spending several weeks in Iceland last year, it’s easy to see the connection Karazija’s relocation to that isolated northern realm had on his creative sense - Low Roar’s Sigur Ros-meets-Radiohead-and-then-goes-folk (?) sound consistently echoes the wintry climes and ethereal vibes of his adopted country.
While I’ve always rated this whole discography quite highly, it’s arguably the dreamlike and otherworldly essence of Low Roar’s music which has slightly held it back in my estimation from reaching even greater peaks of excellence. I sure love me some folk tunes, but my very favorite purveyors of the style always hit me right in the heart, and Karazija’s compositions tend to read a bit emotionally aloof - profoundly gorgeous, sure, but always keeping me at arm’s length.
2021’s
maybe tomorrow… might not be Low Roar’s finest release when assessed across every available metric (I’m inclined to favor the debut self-titled for that honor), but it marked the one and only instance where, at least for me, that slightly frustrating wall came tumbling down. From the very first spin, that album is a hard listen - meandering through blissful sonic beauty, but also conveying a stomach-churning level of desperate sadness on tracks like “Hummingbird” and “Bye Bye”.
That heart-rending sensation only became more potent when, little more than a year after the release of
maybe tomorrow…, fans learned that Karazija had passed away at the age of forty. We were then informed that Low Roar’s next record had already been mostly recorded before its mastermind’s death. A few years later, and here we are, with the release of
house in the woods. It’s a poignant moment on its own terms, a final gift from a project which already offered so many joys to the indie music community.
With that context provided, it’s a bit regrettable to note that I find
house in the wods slightly disappointing overall (admittedly, it’s being measured against the high bar of prior output). One of Low Roar’s notable strengths has been the ability to oscillate between different tangents within its immersive trademark sound with each release, never seeming to repeat the same formula while remaining true to its essential vision. To these ears,
house in the woods feels a little
too close in style to its predecessor LP, leaning upon the same slow-moving glacial ambient pop sound which
maybe tomorrow… trafficked in. Where it differs is in its more scattershot nature, incorporating as it does several interlude-ish tracks and periodically engaging in more abrasive textures, like the ending moments of “Field of Dreams” or the nightmarish repetitions in the midst of “Gone Fishing”. The results come out rather uneven.
Said critiques shouldn’t be taken to reject the simple truth that
house in the woods is often, even usually, a pretty wonderful record. True to form, the music here tends to be absolutely gorgeous. There are hordes of poignant moments, too, made only more powerful from the heartbreaking context of this release. In the final analysis, while I’m skeptical this will be too many fans’ favorite Low Roar effort, it’s also likely to satisfy nearly everyone, and to bring a tear to many an eye. Indeed, an exceptionally worthy artistic career signs off here with the title track, an absolutely pristine stunner which could not have been better chosen for the purpose. Over a gentle and sublime backdrop, Karazija murmurs lyrics both pastoral and cosmic, near the end crooning “
and I will write what I’ve seen, will you read what I write?”. It’s a simply perfect moment, and goes to show that the mournful contemplation I pulled from “Field of Dreams” for fitting use as the review summary will happily be proven wrong, as this kind of transcendent art will surely stand the test of time. Rest easy.
