It’s been a particularly harsh summer. Through watching nearly all my friends move away, dealing with everyday personal struggles, and enduring this never-ending dry heat wave, it’s been tough. Last week, as I started the monotonous task of packing my things to move back home for my final semester of college, mother nature finally bent. A notably active thunderstorm rolled through town and seemed to hover over my house for hours.
It happened to be the same night I received a copy of the debut album by All There. I sat in bed to take my first listen of an album I’ve been anticipating since I heard their first single months ago, but every time I saw a flash of lightning outside I paused the music to hear the crack of thunder. I used to be terrified of thunder storms as a child, but now they’re among the most therapeutic things I can experience. Pausing the music to listen to each clap of thunder ended up being less of an intrusive exercise and more like interactive music; inserting my own unique narrative into the rhythm of this record.
All There is the product of four musicians: Meysell Quintana (Echo Vessel), Luke Kim (Copys), Maxton Stenstrom (Infinitefreefall), and Pilot Chmielarczyk. All four initially met through the internet and began collaborating in late 2012 on a concept album based around the idea of a crumbling relationship that dissolves over the course of four seasons. The album’s protagonists, Jon and Emily (voiced by Stenstrom and Chmielarczyk, respectively), trade lines back and forth, ranging from heartfelt harmonizing to strained-sung arguments. Separating each season is a selection of voicemail messages from concerned friends.
The album’s first full song “Melt” takes the renewed sense of clarity after layers of frost and ice have melted away to a literal conclusion. The song’s percussion is crisp around the edges, while the warm synths feel like the first day of sun in months. “I feel like things aren’t the same as they used to be,” goes the chorus, and it sets the tone for the rest of the spring section. “You’ve Changed” is a gorgeous trip-hop styled, piano-led blast of cathartic energy that becomes deliberately more expansive with each verse and chorus. The album’s protagonists spend the track picking away at one another’s shortcomings over subtle orchestral work and distorted vocals. It’s honestly heartbreaking.
Summer shows both characters growing more distant while attempting to do anything in their power to save their decaying relationship. “Flourish”, sung entirely by Stenstrom, is a confessional from the male’s perspective, demanding “You need to help me be a better man for you.” Here, as well as on “Prologue” and “Melt”, All There toys with some pitched and chopped vocal distortion in the style of Purity Ring, but there’s often a pronounced feeling of restraint through each little experimentation. As if pushing things too far might just tip all of the heavy emotions over the edge.
It’s hard to talk about the rest of the album without spoiling the story (I know, spoiler alerts in an album review? Just trust me) but needless to say things get worse. As summer winds down and the album reaches its midpoint, “The Road”, both Jon and Emily grow increasingly antagonistic during a nostalgic car ride. And over a frantic house beat, eventually start singing over each other before the track ends with a screeching tires, honking car horns, and crashing metal.
It’s clear through the progressively more devastating voicemail messages on the following track “Void” that Emily doesn’t survive the accident. Through fall and winter, Jon falls into a deep spiral of guilt and shame. Appropriately the record never really recovers from the languid pace of the Majical Cloudz-esque “Pick Up the Phone” and “Object Permanence.” “In the Cold” injects a little bit of energy into the depression, but despite the track’s sparkling keys and icy percussion, Jon’s voice struggles to pull itself out of a mumble while pleading “Just leave me in the cold.” “Windows” is the highlight of the record’s second half, with the delicately plucked piano becoming anxiously distorted at the song’s climax. The record ends with Jon’s fate left somewhat ambiguous.
All There might be a direct antonym of “easy listen.” It’s truly feels poignant and overwhelming. But listening casually (i.e.: not focusing on the concept or lyrics), you can hear the work of four intensely talented musicians playing off each other’s strengths immaculately. They don’t make it seem easy—they make it seem instinctual. It’s worth mentioning that the album’s vocalists are just barely 17 years old, while the two instrumentalists are 17 and 20. Music and words as ahead of their time as these should not be able to pour out of people under the legal drinking age.
I don’t recommend you go out and sever with your significant other immediately, but going through some sort of personal loss amplifies this record to even more tragic levels, each word stinging just slightly more than comfortable. A concept album about a break up (or the death of a loved one) is a tough thing to pull off well. To make it sound this good, even out of context? Well, that’s just extraordinary.
All There is out now on LP, CD, and digitally via GTB Records.
