Spectreview: Bryan Away – Canyons to Sawdust

Releases: July 9, 2021

Experimental Pop
(Baroque Pop)

-DEEP PINK-

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“I cling to my mistakes
Then I wonder why nothing’s changed
I say it’s not too late
I deny my own fate
Then continue to wait”

Listening to Elliot Korte’s new LP as Bryan Away takes me back to a time when this baroque, abstract style of experimental pop was an achievable standard among “indie” types. It’s weird to feel a sense of nostalgia for something that’s still being practiced to this day, but here we are. And when it’s done this gorgeously, who can complain?

Indeed, what’s initially striking about Canyons to Sawdust is the confidence of its arrangements, which unfold at a measured pace and commonly feature lush layers of piano and strings. It takes its time to get there, with two intros and a few tracks that stretch on a little past the logical conclusion of their ideas, but it feels like a record to bask in. Korte’s a tasteful arranger throughout, allowing songs like “The Lake” and the Half Waif-featuring “Dreams and Circumstances” to bloom organically. Elsewhere he gamely matches form to function, structuring a track like “Scenes from a Marriage” as a circuitous representation of the rut he describes while designing “My Cave” to be as blissful and static as its narrator’s stubborn mindset. I found myself as interested in piecing together why these choices were made as much as how, and it’s to Korte’s credit that the answers come easily enough.

While the songs soar, the subjects usually remain grounded: mired in projections, insecurities and anxieties about the future. Korte isn’t afraid to be honest and dive deep into himself, even if it threatens to paint him in an unflattering light. “Scenes from a Marriage” is not based in fact so much as a hypothetical situation (a point that’s echoed by a certain lack of specificity in Korte’s lyrics) but it’s works well nonetheless, and it’s also not a common occurrence to hear someone want to play the lout so readily. Ditto for closing track “Special,” which paints its narrator as a bitter divorcee (perhaps the same one from earlier) whose righteous coldness is punctured by brief balancing responses from the other party, ultimately striking a strange balance between wish fulfillment and self-laceration. Stranger still is “Fill Me With Pride,” which tackles some unnamed looming disaster with a frustrating resignation, whereas “A Story Arc” initially provides a façade of hopefulness before leaning into that same rigid sense of defeat.

What results is a friction between the baroque fantasy of the record’s arrangements and the grim reality of human behavior embedded in its lyrics. That friction is fascinating and refreshing at best and a little deflating at worst, but never uninteresting. What ultimately lingers after the last few notes, however, is a stunning display of creative power from a bold, articulate new talent that requires a few listens to absorb all of this completely.

Recommended for a grayscale portrait of a field with one tree.