Review Summary: There are miles and miles to go - and I've been down this road before
Bon Iver's 2024 EP,
SABLE, was the most bluntly vulnerable release of Justin Vernon's career, a record about self-imposed isolation that doesn't cling to vague lyricism and shy away from direct expression in the way early Bon Iver did. Much like the record that made the Eau Claire native a household name for every indie fan c. 2007 with equally unkempt beards and emotions - do you seriously need me to name the record? - it's a song cycle about heartbreak as well as a reaction to broader discontent. The trauma allegories of "Things Behind Things Behind Things", the stranded beauty of "Speyside", and the despondent cry that is "Awards Season" - it's vintage sad boi stuff, and some of Vernon's best pure songwriting ever.
SABLE's themes of isolation are placed in stark contrast when followed up immediately by the 9 new songs on
SABLE, fABLE, an extension of the EP that also serves as a rebuttal.
fABLE is about relationships and their importance, acknowledging their complexities while affirming that connection is preferable to solitude. The electronica influence of previous records like
22, a Million has been compartmentalized into shorter, tighter song structures, melodies that are sharper and more *contemporary* than anything Vernon has penned before. Vernon certainly knows his Frank Ocean, if tracks like "Walk Home" and "I'll Be There" are anything to go by. He also knows a thing or two about gospel music, taking the sound of songs like "Faith" from 2019's
i,i and expanding it with a sprinkle of Jacob Collier (the maximum recommended dosage) on "From". Collaborators are featured often on this record (Flock of Dimes and Dijon's vocals on "Day One" are particularly stunning), although it is still the least "band-like" effort put out by Bon Iver since the
Blood Bank days. Musically, these are firmly Justin Vernon tracks. Lyrically, these are thoroughly Justin Vernon sentiments.
Thematically, this record succeeds on the back of sequencing, the best of any Bon Iver album to this reviewer's ears and one that could have failed spectacularly in almost any other configuration. Taking songs as starkly opposite to one another as "Awards Season" and "Everything Is Peaceful Love" and putting them so close in the order is a massive risk. But the transition between dark and light is handled perfectly, "Short Story" using the hook of its predecessor as the link to connect these two stories together. The record also ends on a more reflective note that brings these themes full circle - "If Only I Could Wait" might be a hint at a relationship on the brink (with Danielle Haim acting as a superb foil for Vernon), but "There's a Rhythmn" is confirmation and acceptance in the same package. As the quiet, wordless harmonies of his bandmates swirl around him, Vernon's concluding sentiment is one of growth: while he and his "babe" have moved into different stages of life, the response is not to uproot and run away from his emotions, but to embrace the fluidity of life and wherever his journey takes him next. As with "Re: Stacks" so many years ago, it's about the unlocking and the lift away ("no need to crow no more") - and as a listener, that sentiment is just as much of a gut punch as it was the first time around.
After almost 20 years of hearing Vernon use Bon Iver as an outlet for the angst and anxiety of relationships and life as a whole, to hear him sound at peace with everything is deeply welcomed. If the prototypical "sad white indie musician" can reach this sort of emotional nirvana, there's hope for the rest of us.
