A moody album for the heartbroken and grief-stricken
Bnny’s moody album, Everything, aims to create a picture of melancholy. With breathy vocal technique and stripped-down basslines, every moment seems to drip with reminiscence. Repetitive choruses descend into dissonant chords. The album itself acts as a dive into grief, revealing deep anxieties within the frontwoman and lead singer, Jess Viscuis, regarding intimacy. Conceptually, the album is a cohesive outlook on the despair of the heartbroken.
The opening track, “Ambulance,” introduces a more uneasy idea. With a more bass-central song, Viscuis describes the ways in which she avoids seeing the things that hurt her. Contrasting with the album as a gritty look into the world around her, it acts as a revealing narrative of how personal these songs of vulnerability are. Using an ambulance as a metaphor for avoidance is a dreary connection to the grief associated with losing a partner. It seems as if she has lost the words in which to describe the events that occur to you.
The later track “Promises” is akin to late 1990s grunge rock, with its more raspy voice. The production is shinier than the era but certainly does not lose its edge. Its bassline is a curious set of chords that makes it uneasy to listen to. Despite its very short length, it delves into the matter of the singer lacking commitment. It sonically matches the tone of the following song, “Take That Back,” well. The former acting as a personal atonement, the latter being a devastating accusation that her lover is selfish for passing away after loving her deeply. The idea of loss reverberates throughout, only growing in intensity throughout the album.
“So Wrong” showcases the emotive capabilities of Viscuis’ voice. The instrumentals are more toned down, yet the song seems utterly helpless. The chorus comes almost in gasps, in exasperation at the realization that they are not right for one another. It acts as a tragedy, realizing that there is nothing more to ignoring what is present, that her lover no longer is with her. With lyrics associating that she “can’t remember” and “forgot your name” is a growing distance from the event, which scares the singer. It is clear the song is one of the most vulnerable moments of hers.
“Blind” vocals sound uncannily similar to Beach House or Chromatics, with its loose vibrato. Despite a heavy influence, the songwriting comes to the fore as a simple melody that releases the idea of being shut off. The first time in which love is spoken of in the album is in reference to a goodbye. While many of the songs have shorter lengths, they do not negate the dreamlike instrumentals or production. It would be a disservice to describe this song as a favorite, as it is a harrowing reality in its encounter. The euphemism of blindness is placed throughout. It is in its subtlety that one begins to realize just how he is unable to see and love her anymore.
Perhaps the epochal song of the album, “Stardust” sounds akin to a lullaby while denouncing the idea of star-crossed lovers. In a continuous loop, the instrumentals almost act as the final descent into a self-fulfilling prophecy, denouncing that love will never work out. After all of the heart she puts into describing her lover, Viscius leaves a beautiful portrait of a lost love.
Throughout Everything, Viscuis states her grief in a beautiful, harrowing picture. It is a familiar yet extremely poignant album that cohesively tells the tale of the heartbreak of losing someone you love.
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