Brave and bold ballads.
In Carl Jung’s words, “Shame is a soul-eating emotion.” The psychological burdens of societal guilt can lead to self-annihilation. To recover from it is to be made anew. Australian singer-songwriter Michael Waugh’s latest record chronicles such a rebirth, offering a powerful musical expression of his gay identity and reflections on the oppressive methods of acculturation he experienced growing up in Victoria. Reflecting on his work, Waugh says, “It’s about making sense of the shame I was raised with. There’s a part of me that still feels like I’m standing on the edge of a cliff, calling out when I say, ‘Here I am, this is who I am.‘”
The record opens with ‘We Are Here,’ where Waugh places himself alongside a litany of gay icons who have paved the way through oppression and repression with their bravery: “I am here with Ginsberg/ I am here with Baldwin/ I am here with Harvey, trying to change the law.”
Allen Ginsberg is a fitting counterpoint, as Waugh balances confessional lines with rhetorical devices and folk-rooted rhythms. ‘Beauty and Truth‘ brings politics closer to home, with Waugh painting a picture of honest regrets: “Too young to be a father/ Unfit to be a husband/ Too stunted by the world to be full-grown.” Similarly, ‘Father’s Day‘ is a raw portrait of regrets: “All Sunday waiting to hear from you, son/ Thinking of us on a Father’s Day gone by.”
These songs remind us that real emancipation includes self-reflection and the admission of unwanted truths. The album sounds bright and clean, with shimmering guitars and propelling rhythms. Each track flows like a clear spring. Producer Shane Nicholson curates a live sound that breathes energy into the songs, reminiscent of Springsteen’s work with Brendan O’Brien on ‘The Rising.‘
‘Out‘ and ‘Playlist‘ are buoyant portraits of newfound love, while ‘Songs About Women‘ delivers another anthem, this time in praise of the many great female artists. Throughout, the aperture varies, widening and narrowing as it moves from societal observation to personal moments, carrying a narrative wheel that covers brokenness, repair, forgiveness, and joy.
It ends with ‘To Be Alive,’ a resounding affirmation, where the other side of pain is a lust for life: “Might feel a little sorry tomorrow/ But if I left now I’d regret it more though/ Fuck, it’s good to be alive.” There is a rush to many of these songs, a giddy portrait of happier horizons. New ground has opened, generating a wellspring of expression and forging new gradients. Listening to it, one cannot help but feel energised.
