Posted: by The Alt Editing Staff
“Day One” feels like a beginning, a chilly-but-not-chilling breeze and twittering birds welcoming in the morning as the sun casts itself over a nearby body of water. Even without the genesis-heavy title of the opener, Carolina Chauffe’s latest album as hemlock is an opening eye, a rolled-down window, the first hour of a long drive with several things to think about, a deep breath before the plunge. 444 rolls up all of their twangs and twinges into a single bottle and sets it adrift. Each song was taken from their ongoing song-a-day project, dusted off from their phone-recorded Bandcamp shelf, and vibrantly re-made into a “best of, so far” compilation. It’s a sibling to their springtime mini-album amen!, recorded with a Midwestern band over two days in-studio before Chauffe departed for a nomadic life of relentless touring.
Entire novellas are stuffed into short songs ripe with poetry, both lyric and lived. Sometimes, as on “Day One,” it flows with naturalism and simplicity, letting light guitar and atmosphere convey the wordless. Other times, they sing of Home Depot hot dogs, hazard lights, and faded love. There is awe in how they watch the world go by and wander alongside it, whether they’re angry, mourning, pensive, or anxious. Life is on the precipice and it’s tempting to give it a kick, consequences be damned, just to see what might be found after tumbling down the mountain. Chauffe weaves their words into crowns of flower and vine or sets the air ablaze.
Prerelease single “Drive & Drive” crackles with malleable electricity, teetering through a life in which respite and consistency seem untenable; nevertheless, Chauffe gets out of bed, does the dishes, and tries and tries again. They end mid-lyric, mid-attempt, singing of repetition and never resolving, serving as a reminder that there will always be another try. “Hazards” punches the scuzzy ferocity of Neil Young and Crazy Horse into a new gear, the rasp in their voice raging against the bullshit both people and circumstance tend to throw. It would be impossible to discern that these songs are anywhere from one to five years old with how vital they feel, delving into exact time-and-place specificity and making the emotions as fresh and universal as whatever uncertainty clouds the present.
Any rootlessness audible in their songs is vanquished as soon as Chauffe slides into a Van Zandt-ian curl on “How to go on loving (when the living breaks your heart),” especially when they sing “baby” or “darlin’.” In addition to their erstwhile home of Chicago, they have self-described “anchors” in Texas and Louisiana; a deep love of country music and its heartworn craftsmanship is blissfully palpable on 444, even when they aren’t embodying the gravel roads of Lucinda Williams or Blaze Foley’s flightless lonely nights. Chauffe’s dedication to the arts of song and storytelling glows in the pre-dawn darkness, weary as it holds love and hope close.
“Sky Baby,” the penultimate track on 444, is torn from the pages of August 2021. It’s an incredibly touching love song and one of the most beautiful songs in the hemlock catalog. Chauffe’s voice swoops like lovestruck bats before sunset before bursting heavenward, singing “You are the sky” and attempting to join it. Each metaphor layers into their expansive declarations of affection and dedication, poetic and soft. It’s a fittingly open-hearted climax to the patient and rich scenery of the record. 444 settles into wistful gratitude by the end, sharing verdant affection for friends, music, and the world within which it’s all contained.
Disappointing / Average / Good / Great / Phenomenal
444 is out now.
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Aly Eleanor | @purityolympics
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