Spectreview: Squirrel Flower – Planet (i)

Released: June 25, 2021

Alternative
(Indie Folk)
(Indie Rock)

-DEEP PINK-

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The closer we get to the dismantling of society as we know it, the more I suspect we’ll see of enterprising songwriters tackling the climate emergency in some way or another. Not that it isn’t, or wasn’t, happening already – tons of artists have take up that mantle over the young century, because it’s challenging to write about something that will eventually render your efforts obsolete. Tamara Lindemann did just that in one of my favorite albums of the year so far. Grimes tried it too, kind of. And Ella Williams does it here, in her third record and second for Polyvinyl. That dread might merely simmer in the background, but simmer there it does, coloring the interpersonal foci of her songs as the sound of her guitar swelters around her.

Planet (i) may not have much different content-wise from the dusty, melancholy alt-country numbers of I Was Born Swimming – it’s still a universally well-written showcase of a preternaturally talented songwriter – but what it has over its older sibling is that its immaculately produced. And I mean immaculately: mixed and mastered mostly by veteran producers Ali Chant and Heba Kadry (respectively), the record practically emanates heat lines, lending an ever greater sense of spaciousness to Williams’ delicate compositions. It’s at once louder and quieter than its predecessor, and her songs are all the stronger because of it. “I’ll Go Running,” for example, builds in a similar fashion to Swimming’s “I-80,” but the tension is more palpable, like classic PJ Harvey. The distortion on “Hurt a Fly” stings like a fresh scrape; the solace blanketing the dewy “Iowa 426” hits that much harder, while on “Pass” Williams’ voice feels incredibly featherweight. Across the board Planet (i) sounds like Squirrel Flower heightened beyond what she’s demonstrated.

The songs, as mentioned, are still strong. Williams’ knows how to work in succinct structures, driving the knife in with a plaintive harmony, a subtle rise in volume or the lead-in of a new part. Songs this simple, and production this intensely sparse, tend to magnify not only the individual components but the way they play on each other, and most of the songs on Planet (i) benefit from that raised stage. The mercurial tempo that warps “Deluge in the South,” like a misremembered memory; the way “To Be Forgotten” gradually dissolves to meet the desire of the narrator; there’s tons here to dissect. And yet it’s ultimately unnecessary because of how easy it is to enjoy from a surface level, pressing play and swaddling yourself in its near-oppressive warmth.

Recommended for failing automotive AC units.