Album of the Week: Weyes Blood offers meditation amid the permacrisis with ‘And in the Darkness, Hearts Aglow’
Weyes Blood has mellowed out her rolling melodies for a sprawling sanctity of meditation with her new album, And in the Darkness, Hearts Aglow. It’s an apt title amid the current permacrisis, as it casts out the world, lights a little candle of hope and welcomes you into a world of reflective calm. Permeating it all is her soaring voice, which crowns her as one of the finest singers of her generation and the always stunning production of her work.
There is still some pop revelry with tracks like ‘The Worst is Done’ and moments that make cinematic seem like an adjective fit to describe a church fête with the celestial crescendo for ‘Children of the Empire’, but these peaks run down to pastoral valleys with the ambient sounds of ‘In Holy Flux’. The record is, nevertheless, a spiral that belongs on the same page, drawing you into its hallowed atmosphere.
Back in the days when music was largely confined to churches, they were purposefully designed to induce awe. There is a similar feel to Weyes Blood’s dramatic soundscapes. It’s the sort of record that it seems rude to talk over. It isn’t an imposing beast by any means, but there is something commanding about the sacred space it offers. Anything other than your undivided attention seems like littering in a National Park.
The hamstring of this spectacle might be that it isn’t one of the most listened-to records of the year. Nevertheless, it is escapist mindfulness that we all need. In this sense, it’s an album with its finger to the pulse, set to bring peace to stressful workdays, ooze into the background on long drives home, and swirl away like incense smoke for a lovely session of ceiling gazing.
The instrumentation is so swelling and interwoven throughout that it’s hard to wade through and even harder to replicate. It is, ultimately, in this sense, purely individualistic and helps to further establish Weyes Blood as a singular force. It speaks volumes that the searing production is crafted, in part, by Natalie Mering herself alongside Jonathan Rado. There is an unabashed sense of grandeur to the mixes—if she reaches two minutes and thinks a sudden wind chime might add something, then it’s going in.
As Mering wrote regarding her record: “Well, here we are: Still making it all happen in our very own, fully functional shit show. My heart, like a glow stick that’s been cracked, lights up my chest in a little explosion of earnestness. And when your heart’s on fire, smoke gets in your eyes.”
“Titanic Rising was the first album of three in a special trilogy,” she continues. “It was an observation of things to come, the feelings of impending doom. And In The Darkness, Hearts Aglow is about entering the next phase, the one in which we all find ourselves today — we are literally in the thick of it.” She has found meaning in this obscurity, cleared the air for the rest of us and welcomed us into her aura of soaring clarity.
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