Mythopoetics

While Half Waifs cinematic, keyboard-based atmospheres have generally expanded with each album to this point, they reach another level of vibrancy and drama on their fifth album, Mythopoetics. Partly written by project leader Nandi Rose during the COVID-19 outbreak -- its predecessor, The Caretaker, was released in March 2020 as much of the U.S. was locking down -- it adopts a less familial, more philosophical outlook while remaining distinctly personal. Rose eases listeners in with the vulnerable Fabric (Im too tired to fight your fabric in my heart), a gentle piano ballad with breathy double-tracked vocals that serves more as a prelude than an opening number. That soon comes with Swimmer, a song whose initial sparse, high-contrast percussion and keyboard timbres imply great depth despite little density. Eventually, humming synths fill some of the void as the track settles into a hip-swaying groove. (The song was inspired by an aunt who maintained a level of physical strength that seemed at odds with her Alzheimers.) Subsequent tracks, including Take Away the Ache and Orange Blossoms, combine theatrical, cabaret-like piano balladry with throbbing beats and fluttery, glistening synth designs. The metaphorical Horse Racing, which has mankind running in circles, is one of the hookier entries with its strong, simple beats, mechanical timbres, melodic instrumental flourishes, and strong vocal harmonies. Rose wrote that one in an unfamiliar rental at the very beginning of lockdown, and its lyrics speak to both breaking free of habits and a fear of whats to come. At the same time the album is likewise persistently vulnerable, it returns to themes of persevering. After a vivid half-hour or so, that includes last song Powder, which bookends Mythopoetics with a quiet denouement consisting of skeletal piano, warped electronics, and a childlike melody that describes watching a meteor: Im standing far back from where we watched when I was younger/The living room is black, the house is gone/The vacant lot, a little scar. ~ Marcy Donelson