One Hundred Days of Albums: What’s It Like Over There? By Circa Waves (092/100)

This album has been sitting in the back of my head for months. I saw Circa Waves live once, at a one-off show when George Ezra and James Bay co-headlined. They opened. That day was long. I remember enjoying their set but also desperately wishing that it would be over and that we could be one step closer to the musicians we were actually there for. I didn’t listen to them at all after that. I heard them on playlists and I remembered their name when they came up but I never invested myself in them. Now it seems only fair to give them the time of day.

Something about this record feels overdone. Part of it is the lead singer’s vocals, how stretched out they are, how obviously he seems to be striving for something that isn’t there. I like when records are effortless, when the emotion pours out all at once, when you can tell that the feelings and the memories always sit at the forefront of the writer’s mind. They don’t have to reach for anything. Their entire life is held in their throat and the songs are just a way to get what they’ve always known and what they want to know out into the world. This is harder than that. There’s something missing. It’s nice to listen to but it doesn’t feel so full of heart.

There are moments that feel good. I don’t actually like how “Sorry I’m Yours” sounds as a whole, but I like how the lyrics are set up, I like the line You make me coffee in bed and then we talk about the show tonight. It feels intimate. A simple life. I like “Movies,” it’s the song I’ve heard most, it’s danceable and catchy. I like “Passport,” it slows everything down, you can feel more of its depth. I love the chorus of “Motorcade.”

Sometimes it’s satisfying just to know I’ve listened to an album. I didn’t like it, but now I know how it sounds, now I know that I never have to go back to it again. I coexisted with it for half an hour. I listened to this band’s version of art and life. And that feels like an accomplishment. It just leaves more space for the things I really love. Less unknown. More of what really matters.