On her sophomore album as Squirrel Flower, Boston native Ella OConnor Williams leans into a sprawl of emotional chaos, dispatching demons and riding out the storm with a mercurial sense of curiosity. As a toponym, Planet (i) refers to a combination of spirit and place; that of her own self as well as the world at large. Themes of personal, meteorological, and environmental disaster scud like silver clouds over the albums panoramic arrangements in a tenuous, but pleasingly textural way. Recorded in the U.K. by producer Ari Chant (PJ Harvey, Perfume Genius), Williams already melancholic indie rock takes on some of the hazy grit that hangs like an aural patina over Bristols legendary music scene. Where her 2020 debut seemed almost celestial in its moodiness, Planet (i) is rooted and decidedly earthbound. The thrilling Hurt a Fly ripples with electricity and light while songs like Roadkill and the sprawling Night are all gravity as if wrought from deep mineral deposits and stone. A number of the tracks, though, are quite gentle, bearing a woolen sadness that is quite affecting. I saw a hummingbird face down in the water, sings Williams in an airy half-whisper, imbuing the lovely Deluge in the South with heartbreaking imagery. The sparse Desert Wildflowers, on the other hand, is quietly defiant in its eerie uplift. Like Squirrel Flowers debut, Planet (i) is a journey through an ever-changing landscape and marks a noticeable creative step forward for Williams. ~ Timothy Monger

Rovi