There’s this other kind of exhaustion that we all feel once we move beyond friends but aren’t quite at “couple” yet. Not breakup tired (after all, there was nothing to break up) and definitely not real-love tired (someone clearly never read the memo). But, you’re still exhausted and you’re still not over it. Well done, you’ve just entered a new dimension of heartbreak. INYO‘s “An Ocean Between, Pt. 1” understands.
From twelve years of correspondence between a Christian and an atheist, the record chronicles two people seemingly doomed to keep circling back toward each other. Decades of letters, tears, fresh beginnings, lost chances and more-and-more-frantic attempts to establish contact-it doesn’t make much logical sense, but somehow their relationship survives. Romantic? Definitely. Irritating? Equally so. As I listened, I kept wanting to shake these two and tell them to take some action, settle the matter once and for all: Quit beating around the bush, get back together or go see a counselor.
INYO isn’t going to give you a disposable love story with a happily-ever-after finish. An Ocean Between, Pt. 1 chronicles a love that defies time, hope that becomes its own misery and the harsh truth that loving someone doesn’t necessarily mean holding onto him.
The sound of the album traverses from indie folk to acoustic rock and sweeping alternative rock. Guitar picking softly emerges into sweepingly atmospheric soundscapes while INYO’s soaring vocals range from singing softly to singing intensely. Think Sufjan Stevens, Jeff Buckley, Radiohead, Death Cab for Cutie and a spirit which is clearly present to lend the album a distinct soul.
The album opens with the album’s entire reason for existing, “Don’t Close Your Eyes,” and it immediately gets down to emotional business. Rumbling bass, warm guitar and lush percussion set a pleasantly tender tone. Its lyrics acknowledge loving someone means loving all of who they are, “crowned with beauty” while born with “rage in his soul” – meaning they’re beautiful, complex and likely a pain in the ass to text.
What puts the hurt in the song, though, is the line, “Cuz every day I will surely love you.” It’s a beautiful sentiment, but it does seem fragile at best. We already know what a risky proposition this relationship is, so that sort of proclamation leaves me thinking that it takes either a hell of a lot of bravery or shocking stupidity –or both. “Minor Notice” plunges further into that ambiguity. Guitar shivers fall into guitars that get more and more noise, more and more atmospheric, reflecting the turbulence of the relationship. “Sometimes I fall into your hands and slip right through” expresses the bizarre pain of finding safety with a person who may not always be able to deliver it. And then comes the question: “And how can the soul keep crying out?”
“Heart On Fire” feels even more spiritual. What could easily have been a third break-up anthem (Cold winter, candle that can’t warm two lovers) becomes pretty churchy when she boldly sings, I know God ignited my heart on fire. Faith isn’t a flimsy excuse here to patch a broken heart. It’s something that can come out of the flames.
But the album’s real jewel is “I Adore.” Its most telling line could be: “I’ll never try to direct you or catch you up like you’re something of mine.” For an album full of about orbiting someone for years, that’s a pretty grown up perspective: you don’t have to own someone to love them. You can adore someone without making them your project.
The music is just as satisfying. The shimmering synths, melodic guitars and swelling bass all lead up to an a-bomb chorus, with Trevin Kraus contributing a killer, spacey guitar solo and INYO croon “It’s you I adore” not so much pleading for love but giving it away, which isn’t the same thing. It’s a crucial difference and one that’s better conveyed in the album than among the film’s much confused characters.
“Wash” revisits the depressing process of having to break up. Its earthy instrumentation and fragile singing illustrate one of the themes that runs through the whole album: forcing yourself to forget someone, while deep down wishing there’s still some good left. It’s like deleting your lover’s number, only to find you still remember it by heart. Awkward. Relatable. Nice song.
The production allows that intimacy to function. The members of One Way Music and Shoolace mash lo-fi recordings with bigger studio setups, with the drums of Benton Roswell and Alex Williams carrying the bulk of the momentum. Voice memos on the iPhone, audio from handhelds and studio recordings from multiple microphones all help contribute to the record’s earthy character. Sometimes, it resembles hearing a peek into a stranger’s secret diary, in other places it feels like the soundtrack for the final moments in an indie movie. INYO eschews auto-tune as well, so there’s the odd off-key vocal that adds to the naked sense of exposure.
An Ocean Between, Pt. 1 is not really a question of whether two people make a relationship work but what is left when they can’t. Faith, love and fate can have a mean side, no amount of lovely music can.
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About the Author
A tenured media critic known working as a ghost writer, freelance critic for various publications around the world, the former lead writer of review blogspace Atop The Treehouse and content creator for Manila Bulletin.
