Overlooked Records of 2012: Sharon Van Etten
December 23, 2012
Sharon Van Etten – Tramp
We can thank heartbreak for an endless wealth of classic albumsÛÓ Blue, On the Beach, Funeral, For Emma. But rarely has an album inhabited heartbreak so well that it universalized it. And rarely has one succeeded with such fire and passion as Sharon Van Etten’s devastating achievement in Tramp, an uncompromising journey into the depths of a woman’s immolated heart. It is not an album for casual listening ÛÓ it is impossible to leave Tramp in the same emotional state, or even as the same person.
This is in part due to Van Etten’s incredible voice, an unique instrument that is among the best female singer-songwriters. It is angelic, languid, full, and rich with emotion. “In Line” echoes with disembodied wails, and on “All I Can” she nearly shouts in a choir of harmonies over the growing instrumentation. During the depressed dirge “Kevin’s,” her wordless “mmmmÛs bleed from speakers, a sound beyond era, a cry rending time’s fabric.
Her songs, moody and volatile, slow-burning sparks of indie rock and folk, are perfect examinations of the many sides of lost love. “Give Out” begins with lonely, naked guitar strums, a powerful self-examination delivered with striking honesty and desperation. “Ask” contains the album’s best lyricsÛÓ “like cigarette ash, the world is collapsing around meÛÛÓ a lonely plea for a port in a storm of depression and entropy. “Magic Chords,” with martial drumrolls and eerie, descending keys, is spine-chilling. And on “Kevin’s,” her voice soars in long phrases and then dies with exhaustion. Nothing is spared in her catharsis.
“Serpents” is nothing short of excoriating. Its dark, minor electric guitar burns with a barely hidden flame which bursts into a blazing chorus with pounding drums and storming vocals. Its descending chord progression pummels mercilessly, and the vocal melody repeats and repeats, intensifying, and Van Etten denouncing her partner’s “crimes” (a perfect and terrifying word) becomes a witness on a stand, naming sin after sin until the courtroom is in tears.
And then there is “Leonard,” one of 2012’s best songs if not the best. The lyrical transition between the chorusesÛÓ “I am bad,” “I am bad at loving,” “I am bad at loving youÛÛÓ reveals a new emotion: guilt at letting love die. The movement from present tense (“he loves youÛ) to past tense (“he loved youÛ) and then to the personal pronoun (“I loved youÛ) is heartbreaking. And the sung chorus, as it rises to the pinnacle with “well, well, hell” and then slips down the scale again with “I am bad,” is one of the most well-crafted, evocative and gorgeous folk melodies of all time.
This album mourns love in a way that will make it a classic. While Sharon Van Etten’s heartbreak is a personal issue, a small thing to the movements of the universe, her unprecedented expression thereof can tear the bandages from the loss that anyone has felt. It addresses heartbreak with hatred and remorse and despair, not simply her own single situation but the overarching suffering of anybody who has felt love disappear.
While Tramp has been heard by many this year, I wrote about it as an overlooked record because it deserves a top ten placement more than almost every other album of 2012. The album does more than simply sound great or catchy or fun or smart. It is a rare creation, a piece of pathos that can reassure you that you are not alone in feeling; you are human and your agony is what, paradoxically, links you with other human beings. This album is the angry, bitter, and beautiful acknowledgment that the sages were true and that shit, in fact, happens. And when it does, I won’t be reaching for Grimes or Tame Impala or Frank Ocean, but for this timeless, gut-wrenching masterpiece.
By Jesse Paller
