Emily Scott Robinson digs deeply into the historical sounds of American folk but produces a contemporary and moving album.
Robinson’s latest album tackles the hard truths of life head-on, never pretending things are easy. Across songs that speak of illness, poverty, gentrification, loss and death, Robinson insists on a hope that doesn’t sugar-coat reality but persists in spite of the struggle. The record offers comfort in the messiness of living, searching for meaning and joy even when nothing is guaranteed and reminding us that brave, honest hope is still possible. The album has been produced by the brilliant Josh Kaufman, and between him and Robinson, they have allowed the songs to retain simplicity and glow.
The album begins with ‘Hymn for the Unholy’, which is performed like a hymn but feels more like poetry. There is a wonderful irony used in the song too: the music is quiet, spiritual and church-like, but the message is the opposite. This is a song, a manifesto almost, for the imperfect. A song that rejects shame and embraces messy, brave living. “I think the gods are laughing with us, I think the stars are on our side” sings Robinson which feels like a cry of defiance; and then there’s the rallying call, “Here’s a hymn for the unholy, for the savage and the true / You have only got one life, dear, heed the voice that calls to you”.
Next up is ‘Appalachia’, which feels like an ode to ancestral endurance, and honours both beauty and suffering. Lines such as, “My people came from pain and famine…/ You think I’d let some wind and water tear the roots from me?” show the pain and resilience at the heart of existence. Musically, the song is based around a wonderful acoustic guitar pattern and then strings and other guitar parts layer on top. It also showcases Robinson’s wonderful, clear and evocative voice. The following song, ‘Sea of Ghosts’, is a mournful number about longing and a love that lives only in memory. Robinson sings lines like “If you’re looking for a love that lasts, you can haunt me here” and “If you’re searching in a sea of ghosts, I’m the girl who’s wearing red” with such heartbreaking simplicity it is easy to picture yourself there in a haunted landscape just waiting to be chosen again. Accompanying her is just an acoustic guitar and some distant strings that create a sound and feeling of ghosts.
‘Cast Iron Heart’ is a duet with John Paul White and tells the story of the love of two people who have been scarred but still choose each other. Their voices weave into each other and add depth to a song that shows love in rich maturity, the time after mistakes and heartbreak. There is real hope in lines such as “People think we’re past our prime / But I say we got here just in time”. Next up is one of the highlights of the album, ‘Time Traveler’, which manages to be simultaneously heartbreaking and joyous. It might be difficult to imagine a positive spin on dementia, but here is one: a reframing of the tragedy of cognitive decline as something gentle, something that simply involves being able to travel in time and recapture youth. Lines like “I think you’ve got a secret power / So you don’t have to go back and relive your darkest hours” are both devastating and loving.
‘Dirtbag Saloon’ leans into more Country roots, musically, vocally and thematically. It is a tale of a working-class mountain town being destroyed by wealth and tourism. It mourns a community and rages at the loss created by displacement. As the song expresses it, “It’s last call for good times in the town that sold out”.
The emotional heart of the album might be found in ‘Bless It All’, another uncomplicated musical number based on just voice and guitar. If the album starts with a hymn, this is more of a prayer about ordinary survival. It honours every painful moment that builds a life. As Robinson puts it, “Bless the year that god was quiet, and in his absence you were strong”: when we reflect, we “Bless it all”. The theme of reflection is continued in ‘The Time for Flowers’, a song that looks for hope after catastrophe, a message that, “There are days despair will win / But the time for flowers will come again”. Another musically simple song comes next, ‘The Water is Wide’. This is a traditional song, performed traditionally. Flowers are another theme in this song, and so the song follows on naturally.
The album finishes with ‘The Fairest View’, a song of grief and remembrance, but framed as beauty rather than finality. Musical flourishes – a touch of harmonica, backing vocals and amazing moments of soaring voice – add a richness to a number that is about music, memory and nature being a kind of heaven. It is both a mournful and uplifting way to end the album.
Robinson has produced an album that does not shy away from grief, ageing, and loss but instead provides a quiet companion to them. The message seems to be that life is brutal, love is fragile, but it is still worth blessing, singing and choosing one another. It is an album to appreciate in quiet moments and gain some strength from.
