St. Even‘s Other Times You Die is a record that builds on the past successes of Steve Hefter (he who is St. Even) as a quiet indie-pop artist by expanding his palette in a wide array of ways. The expansion of his sonic bounds coincides with a more well-developed sense of the album as a unit, as he tells a distinct–if perhaps not exactly chronologically ordered–story about the joys and disappointments of relationship.
So, that sonic space. Hefter’s previous work relied heavily on acoustic instrumentation, spartan arrangements, and a lot of patience. On this record, he is not as patient–there are things zooming all over the place from the beginning to the end of the album. There are electric guitars!There are electronic bits! There’s found sound! All these things make it a very exciting record.
It is a bit of a departure from his previous work, although there are a couple tracks which strip everything out and leave just the core of his songwriting (“Opaquing,” “Not What You Think,” “Shittiness”). Those stripped-down songs sound remarkably like his previous work. So, this record is less of a change in his sound, and more of an expansion of what he was previously doing.
The expanded songwriting takes shape in many ways. There are nigh-on rock songs like the title track and opener “Piling It On”, which features crunchy guitar and sees Hefter in a bit of a power-pop attack mode. Love song “Matchmaker” has a tropical vibe, full of steel drums and Vampire Weekend style arrangements. “Every Night” is some sort of stuttery neo-funk tune. There are multiple interludes that show off his ability to create pastiches and found sound arrangements. These are all a heck of a lot of fun.
The core of the record, though, is not about his sonic explorations. The record is really about the highs and lows of a relationship from the giddy start and the amazing highs to the not so great parts (“Little Things”). There are plenty of indications that there is trouble in paradise on this record, and they are carefully and unsparingly documented (“3/18/06”). However, this is a record about trying to keep a relationship together as opposed to a document of one falling apart. This is most clearly shown in “Shittiness,” where Hefter attests to the need to keep perspective while things are going well; he needs to not take good times in a relationship for granted.
Closer “Happy Last New Year” is a true resolution: things are going well in the relationship. This allows Hefter to bust out a very-traditionally-St. Even melancholic tune about how he feels like the world is falling apart right as he feels like he’s getting himself together. Even though this is a closer that’s supposed to be a bummer, it’s mostly a reassuring song–you can have totally shitty moments in your relationship and yet still come out the other side. In that way, the record is a record about how to stay together as opposed to the many records about how to fall apart. This doesn’t mean that there’s not fights, even bad ones – but in the end all turns out well (or at least seems like it). That’s pretty rad.
This is an under-the-radar triumph of indie-pop songwriting. If you like St. Even’s previous work, there are a couple tracks that sound just like it here. But if you’re not a fan of quiet, moping indie-pop with indelible melodies, there’s a lot more going on this record which might interest you too. If you like unique, disjointed, unusual indie-pop arrangements, you’ll be into this. So there are a lot of people who should be liking this record, not the least of which being optimists. Also, realists who are trying to be optimistic. Long live St. Even. Highly recommended.
St. Even is that rare record that is captivating in its vocal melodies, arrangements, lyrics, and album art design. Captivating me with one of these things is enough to score a rave review, but this self-titled record from the nom de guerre of singer/songwriter Steven Hefter gives me everything at once. This quirky, lovely, challenging record is a surefire bet to be on my Top 10 of the year list.
His vocals are warm and engaging: his emotive baritone can sound pain-stricken, hopeful, and confident all in the same song. His years of writing and performing have earned him a quiet control of his range, which makes the melodies that he chooses to go for seem effortless. Even at his dour, Dan Mangan-esque moments, he’s got a little bit of a wry smile going on. The performances are memorable in their distinctness; his is not an interchangeable voice, and these are not disposable performances. Many of the melodies are beautiful not only for their well-craftedness, but for their earnest, nuanced, often subtly-imperfect performances. They’ve got character.
The arrangements are also full of life and verve: Hefter doesn’t like to have each instrument play straight through the song. Instead, he fits parts together like a jigsaw puzzle, making a sprawling chamber orchestra/New Orleans Jazz line into an awe-inspiring musical Rube Goldberg machine. This creates a joyful uncertainty, giving the listener little clue what wonder will be behind the next corner. Will it be the jubilant New Orleans piano of “Don’t Hold Your Breath”? The woozy horns of “Until Now Forever”? The odd rhythms of “Home Is Where You Hang Your Head” that make it feel as if the whole song is leaning forward? Hefter keeps you guessing in the best way. You will sing along with songs that don’t seem like you should be able to sing along; Hefter can make complex things fun, and fun things complex.
The “fun things complex” really comes into play with the lyrics, the weight of which is incredible for a singer/songwriter album that’s written in major keys and with intricate arrangements. Not many would layer another layer of depth onto what’s already going on, but Hefter goes right there in “Been a Little Better,” “Until Now Forever” and “Homesick.” His ruminations on the struggles of life feature lines that stick out in the best of ways, grabbing my attention and making me think about them. Because much of their gravitas comes from their delivery, I won’t spill them here, but I can point you toward “Until Now Forever” and “Really Real” for places where this might come upon you.
The art for the album is beautiful as well, with the case arriving in a burlap bag with gorgous print on both sides. The case itself has art too, which keeps proving that Hefter is really special in his attention to detail and that Gorbie International is a doing a wonderful thing for music. The other record label that put out this record is Party Damage Records, which only has five releases under its belt, but is already climbing my list of labels to watch. They opened up their catalog with the excellent dance-oriented indie-pop of Keep It Safe by Wild Ones; they’ve moved on to recognizing the immense talents of St. Even. Hard to argue with that track record.
St. Even is a sophisticated, intricate, beguiling album that gave me an immediate kick but kept the rest of the iceberg submerged. With some careful attention, the rest of the beauty became apparent–and I’m still discovering it with current listens. Absolutely wonderful. Highly recommended.
I had two presentations and classes to teach this week, so I spent an unusual amount of time doing mental exercises to keep myself calm and focused. One of those was “pushing play on my iPod to hear St. Even‘s Spirit Animal.” It worked almost as well as deep breaths and [nerdy Wheel of Time joke redacted].
It’s easy to chill when listening to St. Even, who longtime readers may recognize from Steve Hefter and Friends (and Friends of Friends), as Spirit Animal‘s acoustic-based folk/indie-pop combines the preternatural chill of Breathe Owl Breathe with the downtrodden theatricality of Dan Mangan. Hefter’s baritone adds to the effect, as his few moments of urgency only serve to reinforce that Spirit Animal is predominantly a leisurely stroll.
Hefter’s low, calming tone spreads from his voice to the arrangements. They are meticulously crafted, but never invasive or heavy: the violins float along in “The Piano Inflates,” while the horns in “Cocksure” are poignant instead of flamboyant. This is due in part to the fact that Hefter hits it and quits it: Most songs hover around 2:40, with some falling near or under two minutes. Nothing has time to overstay its welcome.
The resulting tunes range from the chipper “Blinding Love” and very pleasant “Dreams/My Rope” to the self-effacing “Ariel” and the wrenching sadness of “Long Distance Calls.” The major exception is the Mangan-esque, self-aware closer “This Is Not a Song,” which ends in a ten-car folk pile-up of erratic guitar strum, flutes, choirs, vocal soloists, saloon piano and cello. It’s markedly different than the rest of the album, but it feels fine as an outro.
I listen to a great deal of music, but some albums stick with me past their week. St. Even’s latest seems quite promising to end up on the list with Beirut’s The Rip Tide as most recent entries. Fans of mature, thoughtful songwriting (Mangan, Breathe Owl Breathe, Josh Ritter, Josh Radin, Damien Jurado) should get their paws on a copy of Spirit Animal.
Stephen Carradini and friends write reviews of bands that are trying to make the next step in their careers.