I like to ponder the strange series of connections that lead us to the places we visit, the books we read, or the music we listen to. Because so often, the meaning of these things comes not from their content alone, but from the people who traveled with us, gifted them to us, or made us a mixtape. I usually think about that person whenever I hear the track they first shared with me, when we have a connection based closely on a band, or went to a live show together. So when I discover a band I really like on my own, as the opener for another act or plucked from the vast stream online, I tend to think about myself like a good friend: an act of loving myself more through loving the music.
Half a year ago, I had never heard, or heard of, the band Half Waif. But Nandi Rose Plunkett and her collaborators from Brooklyn were touring with Julien Baker, who I had fallen in love with in late 2015 (introduced by an ex-boyfriend). They were coming to Boulder, Colorado in December 2017 and I thought about going, but I was too busy in the middle of graduate school finals. Plus, I thought, I like Phoebe Bridgers (found on my own) better and I'd rather see Overcoats (introduced by a good college friend) in Denver that week. But I did look up Half Waif on Soundcloud, and found myself listening to the best thing since Emily Haines and the Soft Skeleton's 2006 album Knives Don't Have Your Back (introduced by a high school friend). I was blown away by "Tactilian" and became mesmerized by "Overthrown" off her 2016 album, Probable Depths. I listened on repeat in my bedroom, in the morning, the afternoon, before bed. There was something about Plunkett's musical musings that got under my skin, into my mind, and weighed on my heart.
So when I found out she was releasing a new album this spring and coming to Denver, I knew I would be there.
Half a year ago, I had never heard, or heard of, the band Half Waif. But Nandi Rose Plunkett and her collaborators from Brooklyn were touring with Julien Baker, who I had fallen in love with in late 2015 (introduced by an ex-boyfriend). They were coming to Boulder, Colorado in December 2017 and I thought about going, but I was too busy in the middle of graduate school finals. Plus, I thought, I like Phoebe Bridgers (found on my own) better and I'd rather see Overcoats (introduced by a good college friend) in Denver that week. But I did look up Half Waif on Soundcloud, and found myself listening to the best thing since Emily Haines and the Soft Skeleton's 2006 album Knives Don't Have Your Back (introduced by a high school friend). I was blown away by "Tactilian" and became mesmerized by "Overthrown" off her 2016 album, Probable Depths. I listened on repeat in my bedroom, in the morning, the afternoon, before bed. There was something about Plunkett's musical musings that got under my skin, into my mind, and weighed on my heart.
So when I found out she was releasing a new album this spring and coming to Denver, I knew I would be there.
There are many elements of this album that pull on timely, personal parts of my life. It's been hard to separate Half Waif and my own heart at times, as Lavender has sonified my spring in ways I have been unable to. A musician myself, the commitment of graduate school these past two years overtook the time I had once spent with a guitar in my hands or at a keyboard. I use music mainly as a cathartic experience, to express emotions that fail to expel themselves any other way. And when I am too heartsick or busy to make my own music, channeling my feelings through listening to others' work is critical for my emotional and mental health.
In one of her first singles from the new album, "Keep It Out," Plunkett addresses this in the context of a relationship: "Keep it out, keep it in / I'll keep you out, so you never see me unraveling." I felt like what I was unable to tell others or put into song, she could know in secret. The dynamic build in instrumentation paired with her elegant and mature vocals moved me, building up and releasing me from my own self.
In one of her first singles from the new album, "Keep It Out," Plunkett addresses this in the context of a relationship: "Keep it out, keep it in / I'll keep you out, so you never see me unraveling." I felt like what I was unable to tell others or put into song, she could know in secret. The dynamic build in instrumentation paired with her elegant and mature vocals moved me, building up and releasing me from my own self.
Then "Back in Brooklyn" was released the same week my grandpa died, in mid-April. I had already become addicted to Plunkett's hands on the keys, her melancholy musings and tragic timbre on this tune. But when he passed I spent the weekend with my headphones on, comforting myself with gorgeous but emotionally turbulent tracks such as this one. Feeling for the keys, the quick cascade of fingers across the notes, I let Plunkett play for me when I wasn't yet ready to sit back in front of them myself.
When the full album finally dropped in the weeks before graduation, I felt myself right in the middle of the opening track, "Lavender Burning" as she sings, "trying to give a name to the place where my heart is" and "that's the loneliest feeling, to be on a road and not know where it's leading." It's now mid-May and I still don't know where I'm living in two and half months, what I'll be doing, or who I'll be spending my time with. For the first time in six years, the world is open before me and I don't quite know where I'm going or where I want to be. The heavy drumbeats echo the pounding of my heart, the ticking of a clock; Plunkett's ah's mimick my morning sighs.
"Is this all there is?"
When the full album finally dropped in the weeks before graduation, I felt myself right in the middle of the opening track, "Lavender Burning" as she sings, "trying to give a name to the place where my heart is" and "that's the loneliest feeling, to be on a road and not know where it's leading." It's now mid-May and I still don't know where I'm living in two and half months, what I'll be doing, or who I'll be spending my time with. For the first time in six years, the world is open before me and I don't quite know where I'm going or where I want to be. The heavy drumbeats echo the pounding of my heart, the ticking of a clock; Plunkett's ah's mimick my morning sighs.
"Is this all there is?"
Half Waif's style of songwriting and performance is both indie and operatic, simplistic and symphonic, minimalistic and majestic. Live, this trio fills the space of twice their number, using electronic elements as easily as an additional appendage. Feet tap pedals perfectly in sync, switch between keyboards like second nature, and hit electronic drum pads with the same precision as the snare. The studio album does not do Half Waif justice; it resembles a caged wild animal, reigned in for mass audiences. Live, they are free and unburdened, joyous in their movement and sound, adding time and experiments between verses. Plunkett's voice is perfect as is, unbelievably on-pitch and full of expression. I could not believe what I was hearing was even better in person than what was mastered in the studio, but there it was.
Plunkett is on par with prolific and dynamic songwriters and performers as Emily Haines, Caitlin Pasko, My Brightest Diamond, St. Vincent, Fiona Apple and Mitski. Her band's agility and mastery of acoustic and electronic elements brings her to an even higher level. Together, the words, sounds, and performance of Lavender are being noticed--by NPR, by Paste, Pitchfork and more--and deservedly so. But the intimacy with which Half Waif has buried into my own being will always be there. It's the kind of thing that happens when I first listen to a band on my own, and get to see them live at a small venue like Larimer Lounge. But it's a rare and special circumstance when an artist so aligned with my favorite style of music making comes into my life, with an album that I needed at just the right time. For in telling her own story, Plunkett has helped me understand and navigate my own. And now Half Waif is an essential part of the story, too.
Plunkett is on par with prolific and dynamic songwriters and performers as Emily Haines, Caitlin Pasko, My Brightest Diamond, St. Vincent, Fiona Apple and Mitski. Her band's agility and mastery of acoustic and electronic elements brings her to an even higher level. Together, the words, sounds, and performance of Lavender are being noticed--by NPR, by Paste, Pitchfork and more--and deservedly so. But the intimacy with which Half Waif has buried into my own being will always be there. It's the kind of thing that happens when I first listen to a band on my own, and get to see them live at a small venue like Larimer Lounge. But it's a rare and special circumstance when an artist so aligned with my favorite style of music making comes into my life, with an album that I needed at just the right time. For in telling her own story, Plunkett has helped me understand and navigate my own. And now Half Waif is an essential part of the story, too.
Special thanks to Andi Wilson and Eloy Lugo.
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