Madi Diaz – Weird Faith | Album Review
/
ANTI-
One of my favorite things to do when I was young was snoop through my older siblings' rooms when they weren't home. I got to see what was important to them by sifting through their junk drawer, seeing a different side of the people I had spent my whole life around. To this day, I have a vivid memory of reading my sister’s diary, quickly skipping through pages and reading short sections at random. I'm embarrassed to admit that even writing about this memory is making my heart beat through my chest as if I am about to get caught by my parents. That sense of sneaking around, reading things you shouldn’t, and glimpsing into the inner workings of someone’s brain is also how I feel when I listen to Weird Faith, the fifth album from Madi Diaz.
I only recently found Madi Diaz’s music during the rollout of Weird Faith, and it only took a few seconds of listening to the album’s lead single, “Same Risk,” to know that she was making music that I would enjoy sitting down and engaging with on a deeper level. In addition to serving as the album’s lead single, “Same Risk” is also the opening song of Weird Faith, and it fills that role wonderfully as the introduction to Diaz’s style. The very first verse of the song had my eyes wide and feeling like a bit of a prude for being so taken aback.
I'll let you try on all my dirty thoughts
If you lay in my bed, I know we're gonna have sex
It'll happen so fast, make a suicide pact
And you can't take that back
On its own, the first thirty seconds of the song felt like an attempt at “shock value.” Phrases like “suicide pact” feel almost gratuitous, but after the pre-chorus opens up and we leave that first verse behind, it becomes clear that Diaz’s songs have more than enough substance and meaning to warrant my discomfort.
Madi Diaz writes clever and concise songs about love and life in ways that are brand new to me. I found myself grinning every time I would connect the dots in my head to understand the concept of each song. Typically, I'm not much of a lyrics guy, so I'm not one to think about all the possible interpretations of a song in the first place, but Diaz’s songwriting stands so tall in the forefront of these tracks that it's impossible to ignore.
“Get To Know Me” is a prime example of Diaz breathing new life into a common trope. It’s a song of pointed self-depreciation that reminds me of various Willy Nelson cuts like “Touch Me,” “Am I Blue?,” and “Half A Man.” This is a style of song I love because it allows the artist to balance out this crushing self-analysis with impressive self-awareness.
Have you met when I'm belligerent?
I might make you cry
Have I introduced insecurity yet?
Wish I could tell you why
That back and forth brought yet another smile to my face, giving and taking all at once.
I set out to write this review during a flight from Knoxville to Denver and back. My first listen of the album began the minute I sat down in my little blue aisle seat. I got out my phone and proceeded to tap away for three hours there and another three on the way back. As dumb as I looked hunched over in seat 19B, smiling to myself, there were a handful of spots in this album that took me out of my state long enough to straighten my back and face. Some of these moments were musical, like the muted guitar strumming in “Everything Almost,” which was tough to listen to. There’s also “God Person” and “For Months Now,” where echoing vocals rang against sparse production, feeling a little too over the top on such intimate songs.
While the first ten songs of Weird Faith remind me of flipping through my sister's diary, the last two tracks come together for a freeing resolution that sends the listener off with a bit of hopefullness. This whole album addresses what it’s like to exist in a relationship as imperfect people, to come together with someone else who’s just as messed up in their own ways, and to acknowledge that. If the first ten songs are the challenges, then the title track works as a mantra that counters and consoles each challenge found in the preceding songs. “Weird Faith” is ultimately a reminder against becoming calloused in heartbreak and holding onto an optimism, or faith, of the good to be found.
‘Cause every love brings a lesson
And I'm gonna be tested
So I'm gonna have a heart of gold
And I'm gonna have weird faith
After arriving at the album’s thesis statement in the penultimate track, Diaz adds a needed dose of substance and reality with the placement of “Obsessive Thoughts” as the closer. After a record of intimate thoughts and honest over-shares, Diaz builds waves of big energy at the beginning of this song, unlike anything that preceded it. I found the highest peak of the album here in the last song, which surges to a wailing height and then drops off into silence, ending even quicker than it started. We get to hear Diaz’s voice waver a little in the softer flourishes between cymbal crashes. I’m imagining that we are hearing the toll from multiple takes of this grand finale, and I really love the inclusion of that waiver.
Madi Diaz gives us insight into her heart through masterfully crafted songs. She tells us stories about herself in ways I have not heard done before. I love it when I am able to notice even a sliver of the amount of work that went into making a piece of art, which made listening to Weird Faith a lot of fun.
Our anxieties don't disappear once we figure out what helps to tamp them down. “Obsessive Thoughts” on its own is a tough place to be, but thankfully, we have our weird faith to help us along our way.
Kirby Kluth grew up in the suburbs of Houston but now lives in Knoxville, TN. He spends his time thinking about motorcycles, tennis, and music. You can follow him on Instagram @kirbykluth.
