Tiny Vipers’ newest record Life on Earth tiptoes the line between silence and melancholy without succumbing to self-pity. It’s music for looking back or, if indeed the past is shut out, looking ahead but seeing foggy, fatuous uncertainty. There’s a half-faded photograph underlying each numbed-out, insouciant melody that Jesy Fortino purrs into her dead midnight confessional; there’s a benign detachment from emotion that smolders in the austerity of sadness. The acoustic guitar is patient enough to sit back and let Jesy do the talking, but it is listening intently, waiting its turn to interject an opinion on the matter. Meditative, yes — but simmering, mindful, unable to sleep. This is an album of noisy inner dialogue.
[ stream ] Development from Life on Earth
=tyler=
I like this quite a bit.
Self-pity is the farthest thing from anything on this album. The girl in the album is just tough. She gazes straight into utter despair and loss and transforms them without flinching or manufacturing some false hope. The album is an actual masterpiece, though I don’t know if the world or she will ever realize this.