Sinai Vessel – Ground Aswim | Album Review
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Preciousness has become a lost art form. Everything in 2020 has been BIG and loud and important. That’s why when I heard “Guest In Your Life,” the first single off Sinai Vessel’s sophomore album Ground Aswim, it felt like the breath of fresh air I’d been gasping for all year. Relaxing, measured, and unhurried, “Guest In Your Life” provided some sense of pause in a year that has been nothing but acceleration. Over the course of its three minutes, the song wraps itself around the listener and convinces them that maybe, just maybe, things are going to be okay. This sense of calm is continued throughout the rest of the album, cementing it as an infinitely renewable source of comfort, a sacred and invaluable resource in the scatterbrained always-on world in which we currently exist.
Now, this is not to say there weren’t plenty of things this year that required urgency, but it’s more that taking the time for subtlety, careful consideration, or simply a moment of pause went out the window in favor of immediacy. Sometimes impassioned frenzy works, but it cannot be your default state. After all, if you live life with your hair on fire, how much can you realistically expect to get done?
Album opener “Where Did You Go?” begins not with a rallying call to arms, but a single meditative electronic note and spaced-out drumline. Eventually, buttery a smooth bass and gorgeous cascading guitar join the fray, slowly and carefully crafting a melody that flows like a brook. Two minutes into the track, lead singer Caleb Cordes makes his presence known with a voice that never rises above a friendly conversation. With a charming twang, he walks us through scenes of childhood memories that build to the loss of a friend. Gentle keys carry us out of the track for the last two minutes as Cordes sings the song’s namesake several more times, leaving us to ruminate on the importance of life and innocence, two things we can never get back. A heavy opener, to be sure, but still a sonically-laid back introduction to the grounds of the album on which you’ve just arrived.
Track two, “Shameplant,” also served as the album’s second single. Maybe it’s the ‘plant’ tie-in or the guitar line, but this song sounds downright Oso Oso-esque in the best way possible. Despite the sunny and upbeat instrumental, this song finds Cordes questioning whether or not he can care for himself, let alone anyone (or anything) else. “Can’t expect to grow a garden and expect on only rain,” he sings over a brustling emo riff, articulating a beautifully poetic notion on self-sustainability (or lack thereof) that evokes the same sentiments as early Wonder Years songs.
Other tracks like “Fragile” and “George” weave personal tales of relationships and life experiences around instrumental beds that all glisten and shimmer in unique ways. Some tracks like “All Days Just End” feel like hyper-poignant reflections on life in quarantine, meanwhile “Tunneling” addresses general anxieties in a digestible way that feels both accurate yet approachable.
Aside from beautiful writing that effortlessly rises to your level and connects with you upon first listen, almost all of the tracks on Ground Aswim feel unique and contain moments that make them feel distinct from the songs that came before or after. There’s a far-off tunnel-vision projection effect on “Fragile,” a biting hypnotic drumbeat on “Birdseye,” and a wonderfully dynamic build on “Tunneling.” There’s a weird Peaer-esque mathy breakdown on “A Must While So Near” and a lavish steel guitar alongside discretely double-tracked vocals on “Guest In Your Life.” There’s a wealth of sounds to feast upon in this record, and the best part is they’re all still cohesive and fit within the world of the album
What strikes me most about Ground Awsim is the level of restraint deployed on these songs. “Ringing” features only Cordes, his guitar, and a little bit of reverb, yet he’s able to create a piece that’s emotionally-resonant where his words are first and forefront, emotions laid bare before the listener. It’s downright Julien Baker-esque in its economy of instrumentation, and that makes the whole song more memorable and heavy-hitting as a result.
This restraint pays off fully in “Antechamber,” the precious and aching album closer that begins as a slow build but gradually simmers into an affirming meditative repetition over the course of its six winding minutes. Recorded in a single take, “Antechamber” feels ornate and detailed, yet lived-in and authentic. It’s a pitch-perfect note to end the album on and leaves the listener continuing to feel its effects hours later.
Ground Aswim is the antidote to 2020: it’s precious, careful, empathetic, thoughtful, and sensitive. At times it’s mournful and sentimental, but those are not necessarily bad things to lose touch of either. As the world outside turns colder, more bitter, and continues to tear itself apart, it’s a relief to have the shores of Ground Aswim to point ourselves to as we paddle toward calmer waters.
