Shearwater
Rook

The crows by the roadsides scrutinize the world of men and its inexorable and progressive decline. Detached gazes of an abused nature, souls without sorrow searching for lost harmony. They observe man who creates and destroys in repetition, in a continuum that seems to have no end. A blind and frantic race apparently without limits, to satisfy the insatiable hunger for progress.

It is the voice of a dying nature that emerges from the lyrics of Shearwater, a band born from a branch of Okkervil River and now finally a creature capable of spreading its wings for its own solitary flight. An environmentalist message to the core, continuing the discourse initiated with the excellent predecessor “Palo Santo,” which many have defined as the band's masterpiece. Needless to say that my personal opinion is different. In fact, I think that “Rook” is a further step forward in Shearwater's sonic evolution.

Where the songwriting maintains the same inspiration, there is instead evident a greater and almost manic attention to sounds and details, the achievement of balance between form and content. For the rest, there are no major upheavals, the musical offering of the group is the usual mixture of singer-songwriter folk and intimate rock, sparked by sporadic electric bursts. But beyond any label or genre, what immediately reaches the listener's ears is the strong introspective charge of this record, an overflowing and almost palpable emotional tension.

The intense voice of Jonathan Meiburg, never so tormented and vibrant, offers moments of great drama, skillfully navigating through musical chiaroscuro and demonstrating excellent mastery of falsetto. Surrender to the irresistible circular arpeggio of the title track, to the intertwining of delicate percussion and explosions of strings in the splendid “Home Life”. Let yourself be swept away by the restless rhythm of the electric “Century Eyes” and then be lulled by the subdued melodies of the sweet “I Was a Cloud.” I am sure you will not remain indifferent to the twilight atmospheres of “The Snow Leopard”, which so strongly recall the best of Radiohead.

“Rook” is a record for which I cannot find a flaw, except that it seems too close to perfection. A work to be savored slowly, closed in a room and enveloped in darkness, on those evenings when we feel that our soul is the only possible travel companion.

And so we turn off the light. And let the journey begin.