I really do love artists that tell stories but even more so I love those artists who create imagery, atmospheres that are soaked in feelings whether it be isolation or dread, melancholia and even (believe it or not) joy. The ability to create a density of emotion that we can absorb and even plaster onto our own lives feels more powerful and inspirational, it feels more like a baton being passed. For that reason, I have always loved artists like Radiohead or the Pixies or R.E.M or Neil Young or many others who, yes, sometimes may have the framework of conventional storytelling but more often than not are painting obtusely with vague unanswered stories somewhere in the background.
This is what I felt when I dipped into "Fear Of" a song by Hudson Valley (New York) based Battle Ave, a song that reflects 70's country rock vibes complete with jangly piano, drum shuffles and a crushing vocal aesthetic that feels as sad as it is beautiful.
"what is my mind? / not a bird trapped on a wire / not a lazy rolling river / when i wake up, i am cold and shivering / if you’ve got time to scream into my window / in dreams"
"and in a dream i’ve got to sleep with one eye open / i can see the knives, “i want to be alive” echoing in my mind / every day, i gaze out of the window / in fear of"
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In the six years since Battle Ave’s last release, Year of Nod, the Hudson-Valley based band have navigated fatherhood, graduate school, new members, and the cancer diagnosis of drummer Samantha Niss . Now, they’re ready for a reintroduction. Originally formed in 2009 by Niss and guitarist/vocalist Jesse Doherty, the group connected over their love of ambient arrangements, orchestral epics, and the ramshackle indie-rock of the early 90’s. Armed with more experience than ever before, their new self-titled EP expertly stitches together these influences through an intuitive shared language. It’s the kind of creative collaboration that can only exist through sustained friendship and trust.
Battle Ave was largely recorded and arranged remotely, with Doherty describing it as “like a game of Exquisite Corpse… the band mostly cobbled their parts together without knowing what anyone else was going to do.” This resulted in the EP’s dense melodic haze. On opener “My Year With The Wizard,” moody, distorted guitars and piercing drums are juxtaposed with a bright indie-pop chorus, as Doherty considers the transience of friendship and the danger of forgetting yourself in your relationships. “Fear Of” sees sustained pedal-steel wails and a bright, waltzing piano craft a stage for Doherty’s beautifully lethargic vocals, while the meditative, instrumental kaleidoscope “Kingston South Cuties” functions as both intermission and palate cleanser.
The second half of the EP starts with “Cell,” a surging, existential call into the void, with Doherty lamenting “I lost myself all by myself” as the music careens chaotically forward. At almost eight minutes, the closing track “There Can’t Be Love” pieces together a patchwork of lo-fi arrangements underneath stirring guest vocals from And The Kids’ Hannah Mohan, creating a celestial instrumental blanket that morphs into a poignant acoustic finale. Doherty’s persistent final refrain—“there can’t be love in everything”—becomes a coda for the EP as a whole, which is focused on the importance of critically interrogating your life and everyone whom you share it with.
Battle Ave is a wizened throwback to various beloved cult catalogues which manages to shake off any nostalgic fog and avoid anachronism by employing a detailed focus on the here and now. The EP quietly points to the effort it takes to keep going, and the work it takes to be tender towards even our most intrusive thoughts. The band crafts an evocation of the human experience that is characterized by determination, strength and wonder. “We were gone for six years,” Doherty says. “But that doesn't mean we were dead.”
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