Shadow Offering

Braids were just entering their twenties when they released their acclaimed 2011 debut, Native Speaker, an album that seemed to glow with the discovery and experimentation of that age. They exit that time in their lives with Shadow Offering, a set of Saturn return songs that are just as expressive in how they reflect having some aspects of life figured out, while others feel infinitely more complicated -- or, as Raphaelle Standell-Preston puts it, At the age of 27/Questioning that the universe doesnt trust in me. She and the rest of Braids spend much of Shadow Offering looking at heartache and disappointment with more grown-up eyes. Young Buck is one of the most appealing tracks here, with skipping beats and swooning synths that capture the thrill of lust at first sight, but Standell-Preston soon realizes theres not much else than attraction: Its seeming so hard to ever be loved by you. Shes even more frank on Just Let Me, another standout that finds her exhausted from fighting as she sings Where did our love go? over uneasily prickling guitars. And when she tells her partner to get your shit together on Fear of Men, she breaks free from an emotional labor imbalance with a defiant yelp and blasting power chords. Braids music follows Standell-Prestons tougher, plainspoken lead on Shadow Offering. Working with Death Cab for Cuties Chris Walla, they sound bigger and yet more down-to-earth than ever before. Instead of blanketing their songs in swaths of dreamy effects, as they did beautifully on Native Speaker and Deep in the Iris, they offer their listeners a new, but just as meaningful, kind of intimacy with the albums clearly defined sounds. On Here 4 U, it feels like Standell-Preston is singing directly into her audiences ears, even as the choruses swell to match the size and steadfastness of her devotion. Theres a surprising heft to Ashley, where massive guitar textures reach Mogwai-like proportions, and on the weighty distortion of Upheaval ii, which echoes the rawness of Standell-Prestons vocals. Braids push themselves even further on Snow Angel, a nine-minute torrent of guilt, frustration, awareness, and sadness that viscerally expresses the overwhelming scope of the issues of the 2020s, whether its a dying house plant or a dying planet. As the song builds and recedes from the furious spoken-word monologue that makes up its heart, it feels like the kind of major statement that Braids are ready to deliver. In its own way, the song that follows it, Ocean, may be even more mature in its philosophical acceptance of a relationships natural ebb and flow. A sadder, wiser, and stronger album, Shadow Offering reflects big changes in Braids world, but proves theyre still at their finest when they dig into -- and sit with -- complex emotions. ~ Heather Phares