The artist from Minnesota is in reflective mood, providing much-needed feedback to the powers that be on how well it’s all going, whilst paying tribute to his ‘best boy’.
The nine albums of Costa’s solo career show that he is not afraid of mixing it up. The ‘rubber to the road’ of The 4onthefloor, one of Costa’s earlier punk incarnations, has been replaced by a variety of styles. Lush orchestral folk on the album When The Lights Go Out, ambient instrumentals on Lull and Lull II, sun-soaked indie pop on Sunbleach and even a chilled-out cover of Blink-182’s best-selling album, Enema of the State. Costa explains, “I tend to write different songs depending on the environment I’m in”. This diversity may make it more difficult to establish a clear commercial groove; perhaps that is not top of Costa’s mind.
This variety gives his followers little clue as to what’s coming next, so unsurprisingly, this new album takes us in yet another direction. Eddie is stripped down americana storytelling, recorded in a small cottage in the Napa Valley, the production and instrumentation deliberately sparse. “Where earlier releases explored scale and texture, this record leans into simplicity and honesty, capturing performances that feel alive, unfiltered, and deeply personal”, explains Costa. Recorded with one Shure SM7B and not a lot else, Costa has created an album of well-crafted, heartfelt and deeply personal songs.
Repeated listening rewards by revealing that this record is actually a drama in several acts. The first song records confusion and uncertainty. The next two see the singer questioning his sanity. The power of adaptation and change stabilise the ship before anger and frustration take over in Burst and Bloom and Fading Empire. In the final three songs, there is acceptance, trust, love and hope. The tranquillity at the end is personified (or perhaps more accurately dogified) in Eddie, Costa and his partner’s beloved hound, and in whose name the album was created, his beatific image gracing the cover.
Critical opens the album, and immediately, Costa is asking for guidance and understanding. “I shouldn’t need/To find compassion/but it’s critical now”. Costa plays with us by allowing the various meanings of “critical” plausibility. Verging on a state of crisis or emergency; relating to a harsh judgement; a turning point or a grave physical condition: maybe all of these. In Nightmares and Talking To Myself, the listener hears the singer losing himself, questioning his own grip on reality as he reaches out with “Now I don’t wanna scare you/But girl if you don’t mind/ I’ll keep talking to myself”. Santa Ana Winds sounds more grounded, acknowledging the devastating California climate changes yet also indicating the possibility of embracing these changes, working with them. On Silver Skin, Costa documents changes in his own life. “I am older and more sober/ Than I ever thought I’d be”. Marb Reds is reminiscent of Isbell’s Cover Me Up, albeit with a more gentle apology for past misdemeanours as in “you were always there for me / When I’m not always kind”. Personal redemption and the positivity that can come with change lift the mood.
Yet we’re not out of the woods yet, and Burst & Bloom sees Costa getting angry and less resigned than in the earlier songs. “Break the hive mind/ The honey wasn’t worth the puke” hits hard. This is an appeal to those who follow blindly to wake up. At the centre of the album is Fading Empire. This song documents the betrayal of hope and the broken promises. “They told us we’re the North Star/A beacon of hope and truth/ Now we’re an ugly supernova”, alluding to the deep felt hurt. Drawing heavily on the current state of US politics and the emotional fallout, Costa addresses the lack of love, trust and compassion and the resultant insecurity and lack of direction felt by many.
And then the wind down. Sun and Moon and Robin’s Egg Blue are stylistically very simple, perhaps naïve, yet Costa is trying to be open and honest. The album closes on a hopeful, positive note. The Sun Came Out Today leaves us feeling that maybe all is not lost. The peace that Costa has referenced throughout is underlined at the end of the track by the sound of somebody’s somnambulant breathing (maybe Eddie’s?).
Returning to Eddie, Costa explains, “my partner and I have multiple records as a document of our time here on Earth, but Eddie doesn’t have the same, and he deserves it! He’s the best boy that is, was, or ever will be”. The loyalty and unconditionality that we identify with a beloved pet is hugely comforting when the going gets tough. On this record, Costa addresses several themes, some very personal, some external, yet this underlying feeling of unconditional love and trust is like a warm blanket which wraps around the listener. Eddie is an album to be listened to in quiet contemplation. Costa’s appeal in Nightmares “We could use a month of easy peace/A day where I’m not screaming at a screen” is, I’m sure, something we can all agree on.
