“When I’m overwhelmed I go to bed. There’s a giant cloud that sits above my head. Maybe I’ll sleep it all away. Close my eyes so life brings a new day.” An album cover shows a little girl holding her hands over her face hiding herself from the world. The frame around her is messy and disorganised. The child’s expression symbolises times when life is too overwhelming but the artwork is also a representation that the music within the record sleeve is to be autobiographical and rooted in a past full of mistakes.
The effective debut record from Canadian shoegaze-melodic-indie-rock trio Basement Revolver is indeed – like the record cover suggests – deeply personal and melancholic, and it’s the lyrics written by lead singer Chrisy Hurn that detail periods of mental health breakdown and express remorse for her past behaviour that make Heavy Eyes stand apart from being just another distortion-laden sweet-voiced indie rock release.
Heavy Eyes reads like a long confessional set of letters found on a kitchen table one day, where the writer addresses her family, friends and past romantic flames, finally revealing her true thoughts about her past actions and experiences. Although much of the record contains walls of dreamy feedback and distortion associated with shoegaze, Chrisy Hurn’s vocals are so crystal clear throughout that it makes her lyrics understandable, as well as creative and powerful.
‘Johnny’ and ‘Johnny Pt. 2’ speak to her ex-boyfriend and his homewrecker. Although the first part is impulsive and shows anger and desperation at salvaging a relationship that’s already broken by infidelity, the second part is more contemplative, showing a noble side to Hurn suggesting that she hasn’t completely shut him out: “My door will always be, always be open to you.”
‘Friends’, ‘Knocking’ and ‘Wait’ are speaking to her friends and family. The melancholic country-twang ‘Knocking’ references her Christian upbringing and failure to meet her parents’ religious high standards – something that’s hinted in the Jesus Halo behind the girl on the LP art. She admits “I’ve been running a thousand miles” and “I’ve been broken. I’ve been used up.” but Hurn reassures her folks that “my Lord He carries mercy and He’s knocking on my door.” While on the regretful ‘Friends’ she acknowledges her family members individually: “Hey there sister, I’m sorry for the things I said, I’m sorry I was wrong” and “Hey mum and dad I’ve tried to pay it all back.”
Her gratuitous message to her friend on ‘Wait’, “Tell my roommate that I loved her. She’s got all good things to discover. It’s alright to be alone again. Bringing a new light, you are my best friend” is made more ominous when paired with the succeeding line: “I want to drive this car into the ocean. Leave behind the scars that left me broken.” It’s the traumatic almost-suicidal words like this on Heavy Eyes that leave an impression on the listener more than the familiar music styles. Themes similar to Zola Jesus’s dark diary Okovi.
Other deeply effective moments include calls for help on the title track (“why won’t you help me?“), ‘Baby’ (“I’m trying my best to figure this out. I swear that I’m so happy. Cause crying won’t fix what’s already broken and dead“) and “Really starting to feel, like i need someone to talk to. Every time i break, it falls out from my boat” on the brillantly-written ‘Tree Trunks’. This track also compares mental health to the environment for its vulnerable nature with the great line: “Climb into my lungs, there you’ll find smoke rings like tree trunks“.
Like the composition of its tracks, Basement Revolver’s first release is a slow-burning grower of an album that’s more appreciated in its second listen, as this is when the lyrics really hit you hard in their evocative nature, while the circle of melodic guitar layers wrap around like a comfort blanket.
Heavy Eyes is out now on Fear Of Missing Out.
