(2022) Shannen Moser - The Sun Still Seems to Move   


Review:
Shannen Moser’s latest album, The Sun Still Seems to Move, lingers in a place of emotional uncertainty. The Philadelphia singer-songwriter understands life’s ephemerality but is still unsure how to stay afloat in the thick of a storm. “You are gone and I am a well of guilt and pain…/In your absence I am learning how to live,” they sing on the title track, one of many instances where the only solution is to fumble forward the best you can. The Sun Still Seems to Move is Moser’s first album in four years following two folksy Americana releases, a 2017 debut and the full-band arrangements of 2018’s I’ll Sing. Moser initially envisioned their third album as a strictly vocals-and-guitars record. But midway through the record’s creation, a personal tragedy inspired Moser to invite collaborators into their process, hoping that outside players—on cello, clarinet, lap steel, banjo, and other mostly acoustic instruments—could help translate the feelings churning inside. Together, Moser and their collaborators composed abstract soundscapes that envelop even the loneliest of these 11 songs in a soft, expansive warmth. The correlation between the looser production and the intimacy of Moser’s thoughts is palpable—you can hear it in the woodwinds that stabilize “The Bell” and in the way the thunderous bass at the end of “Two Eyes” gives Moser the strength to shout. Moser’s voice is pushed to the front of the mix, and its physicality is striking, their inflection shifting with a playfulness that evokes Joanna Newsom. (Moser, like Newsom, draws on folk traditions, in this case shape-note singing, a choral tradition that prioritizes collective expression.) As a storyteller, Moser faces hard truths with open eyes. The opening line of “Ben” is startling not only in its refusal to mince words but also in the measured calm with which it is delivered: “All the boys I’ve known in middle school are dropping dead.” On “Foul Ball,” taking care of an ailing loved one turns into “the world’s best ever game of catch,” as a vitamin tossed across a bedroom is charged with with World Series stakes. There are no happy endings in these songs of death and broken hearts, only something resembling acceptance that sometimes all you can do is laugh. And there is a cheeky edge to Moser’s existential searching: “I know that life’s not one linear, seamless destination/Leaning towards a pillar moment saying you ended up just right,” they acknowledge on the stunning “Oh My God.” “It’s ass-to-ass traffic, sometimes yelling on the freeway.” It’s an absurd but bittersweet truth, one that Moser must reckon with throughout The Sun Still Seems to Move. “A series of quiet moments makes forever,” a friend advises on the lush opener “Paint By #.” Moser allows this realization to guide them, recognizing eternity all around: in a pair of trees that grow side by side, never touching; in constantly evolving relationships; and in the memory of a dead friend, frozen in time as a scrappy young man. Moser is moved by each, beholden to their lessons. — pitchfork


   


Track List:
01 - Paint By #
02 - Oh My God
03 - Dendochronology
04 - Two Eyes
05 - Ben
06 - The Sun Still Seems to Move
07 - The Bell
08 - Foul Ball
09 - Liminal
10 - Tranquilized
11 - Forever


Media Report:
Genre: indie-folk
Country: Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, USA
Format: FLAC
Format/Info: Free Lossless Audio Codec
Bit rate mode: Variable
Channel(s): 2 channels
Sampling rate: 44.1 KHz
Bit depth: 16 bits
Compression mode: Lossless
Writing library: libFLAC 1.2.1 (UTC 2007-09-17)


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