Goners

Laura GibsonOctober 26, 2018
Alternative/Indie℗ 2018 City Slang
3
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Songs
1
I Carry Water4:05
2
Domestication3:51
3
Slow Joke Grin3:25
4
Goners3:24
5
Performers5:10
6
Clemency4:23
7
Tenderness3:36
8
Marjory3:21
9
Thomas3:26
10
I Don't Want Your Voice to Move Me4:17
4.0
3 total
5
4
3
2
1
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Additional Information

Total length
39:04
Released
October 26, 2018
Label
℗ 2018 City Slang
File type
MP3
Access type
Streaming and by permanent download to your computer and/or device
Internet connection
Required for streaming and downloading
Playback information
Via Google Play Music app on Android v4+, iOS v7+, or by exporting MP3 files to your computer and playing on any MP3 compatible music player
There are a lot of superficial similarities between Laura Gibson and Laura Veirs -- besides sharing a given name, the pair are both artful and poetic singer/songwriters rooted in the Portland, OR, scene, both released albums in 2009 that were overseen by producer/drummer Tucker Martine, and both are NPR darlings. That's pretty much where the comparisons end, though. While Veirs' contemporaneous recording, July Flame, is a scaled-down acoustic-based affair, Beasts of Seasons is the sonic equivalent of tumbleweeds blowing through a ghost town -- or more accurately, across a cemetery; these meditations on mortality were actually written by Gibson in a room that overlooked a graveyard. Between its spare production approach, Gibson's agreeably dusty delivery, and the gloomy subject matter, Beasts of Seasons makes even the relatively low-key July Flame seem like a nonstop dance party. Gibson leaves no uncertainties hovering in the air about her thematic intentions here, crooning "If these bare walls could sing, they would sing us a funeral song" on the appropriately titled "Funeral Song," and filling many of the tunes with sharply observed, creatively deployed observations about humanity's losing battle against eternity. She brings just as much concision and power to the songs by way of her singing; Gibson's voice is a warm, husky burr, as she picks up each word and positions it just right before popping it out in a puff of sweet smoke. The way she sings "heavy in my chest" on "Sleeper," for instance, could serve as a model for the hidden punctuation vital to poetic phrasing. At one point, the sessions for Beasts of Seasons were apparently interrupted by a street parade outside, which Martine captured and dropped into a couple of carefully chosen spots, like the end of "Sweet Deception," where the words "learn to be alone" fade into the sounds of a frolicking group of party-goers, bringing to mind a New Orleans funeral procession that mixes sadness and celebration in equal amounts.
There are a lot of superficial similarities between Laura Gibson and Laura Veirs -- besides sharing a given name, the pair are both artful and poetic singer/songwriters rooted in the Portland, OR, scene, both released albums in 2009 that were overseen by producer/drummer Tucker Martine, and both are NPR darlings. That's pretty much where the comparisons end, though. While Veirs' contemporaneous recording, July Flame, is a scaled-down acoustic-based affair, Beasts of Seasons is the sonic equivalent of tumbleweeds blowing through a ghost town -- or more accurately, across a cemetery; these meditations on mortality were actually written by Gibson in a room that overlooked a graveyard. Between its spare production approach, Gibson's agreeably dusty delivery, and the gloomy subject matter, Beasts of Seasons makes even the relatively low-key July Flame seem like a nonstop dance party. Gibson leaves no uncertainties hovering in the air about her thematic intentions here, crooning "If these bare walls could sing, they would sing us a funeral song" on the appropriately titled "Funeral Song," and filling many of the tunes with sharply observed, creatively deployed observations about humanity's losing battle against eternity. She brings just as much concision and power to the songs by way of her singing; Gibson's voice is a warm, husky burr, as she picks up each word and positions it just right before popping it out in a puff of sweet smoke. The way she sings "heavy in my chest" on "Sleeper," for instance, could serve as a model for the hidden punctuation vital to poetic phrasing. At one point, the sessions for Beasts of Seasons were apparently interrupted by a street parade outside, which Martine captured and dropped into a couple of carefully chosen spots, like the end of "Sweet Deception," where the words "learn to be alone" fade into the sounds of a frolicking group of party-goers, bringing to mind a New Orleans funeral procession that mixes sadness and celebration in equal amounts.
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