Squirrel Flower - Tomorrow's Fire Review
It's overwhelming, deliberate, and, simply, heavy.
It's exactly 32 minutes into a 45-minute-long bus ride when the introspection reaches its crescendo. The dwindling number of fellow commuters are treated to a young man staring intently at his opaque reflection in the night window, as the words “if this is what it means to be alive” bounce from ear to ear.
It's during these moments of self-reflective melodrama that Squirrel Flower's latest offering strikes hardest. Tomorrow's Fire is Ella Williams' third offering, yet she has been releasing music under the moniker of Squirrel Flower for close to a decade. Aside from her enviable productivity, Williams has garnered a reputation for warm songs that flit between the softer sides of indie rock. Tomorrow's Fire, whilst remaining true to the path set by its predecessors, expands in both scope and scale to deliver the 'definitive record' that so many artists yearn for with their third full length.
Opener “I don't use a trash can” is a delicate summary of this evolution. First heard as a sweet and compact affair on her self released debut, Williams has put a spotlight on the ache and doubt that underpins the original but with added space to fully realise its weight. Whispered harmonies dance in and out of time, adding a question mark at the end of each definitive statement. “I'm not going to change my sheets”, the anchoring line of the song, suddenly becomes frail in its authority as it's repeated, until you're left perfectly placed between the competing pressures of action and fear.
It is this mastery of repetition that gives Tomorrow's Fire its understated appeal. Lead single “Full Time Job” is full to the brim with depurative melancholy, sludging between hope and catharsis at a pace that is both traipsing and rushed. The repeated lines which close each verse invite you to take a different look at what lies beneath your first take. The chugging guitars and sing-song harmonies grow more distant with each line's reiterance, an echo that lays a subtle layer of hesitation atop the youthful heart of the song.
“Stick” goes further down the rabbit hole. Pained harmonies that you'd expect to find somewhere in the middle of Phoebe Bridgers’ “Punisher” sit atop a sloping and fuzzed beat, making a marriage out of childlike innocence and adult introspection. Again, Williams' use of repetition creates an iceberg of doubt beneath the head-bobbing surface. “I had a light but you lost it” evolves from being playfully accusatory to cripplingly self-critical. Her subtlety with the relationship between the two is the foundation of Tomorrow's Fire, and what gives the record its appeal for deeper listening.
The sense of aching culminates with the patience of “When a Plant is Dying”. Panned guitars to-and-fro between their own personal chaoses, underpinning a slow manic build reminiscent of the best nineties screamers. Williams' lyrics perfectly embellish the growing sense of climax, nakedly examining the realisation of misery with a to-the-point clarity befitting of the experience.
When a plant is dying
Throws down seeds for growing
I'm not saying I'm dying
But I'm throwing seeds for growing
Having gone through the fire and expecting the eye of the storm round the corner, this trickle of uncertainty is disrupted somewhat by some of the more ‘classic’ tracks that crop up. “Alley Lights” and “intheskatepark”, whilst delightful nuggets of grunge-infused midwest americana, do their job as pace changers a little too strongly. Such a quibble would never merit a mention on most albums that play in Squirrell Flowers' skate park; it's her mastery of the subtlety of layering questions carefully atop of further questions that brings this to light.
Tomorrow's Fire ends almost palindromically, with a reaffirmation of what Williams does so well. Closer “Finally Rain” captures the aching gravitas of repetition mastered so well by Nick Cave in his latest releases. It's overwhelming, deliberate, and, simply, heavy. And this is reflective of how you can expect to experience this collection of songs. Your first listen takes in the full instrumentation. Your second begins to feel the power of each repeated phrase. Then before you know it, Tomorrow's Fire has completely immersed you, and anchored itself as the place you can turn to when the weight of modern life demands a warm catharsis.