In the spring of 2006, during the heyday of MySpace, I somehow ended up becoming good friends with an entire family of siblings that I had never met.
The eldest was Andrew Stonestreet, a singer songwriter with a golden voice and a master for subtlety. At that point, he was writing bluegrass inspired worship songs that were as introspective as they were delicate.
Years later, he moved from West Virginia to Portland, where he formed Greylag, a project that turned his Appalachian sensibilities a few shades atmospheric—and apocalyptic.
His aims aren’t quite as sacred as those early days, but his songwriting is just as masterful as those songs (that are still in my iTunes library, actually). The record is filled with evocative imagery, like in “Kicking” where he wails, “I wake up every morning with a pregnant head / the baby’s spilling out and crying to be fed.” On “Burn On,” he waxes on doubt, singing “And I’m not sure which way is right anymore / and I’m certain that my knowin’ is dulled / but in the quiet hour I hear you call.” On “Black Sky,” he mulls over optimism and pessimism: “they see the black, you see the moon / they see what lacks, you see what could be.”
The songwriting is strong enough, but it’s especially aided by the production, handled by Phil Ek, who previously worked with legends like The Shins, Built to Spill, Modest Mouse, Band of Horses, and Fleet Foxes, who are probably the most immediate soundalike to this record. It’s a standard folk rock instrumentation, including mandolins and the occasional fiddle, augmented by big electric guitars and ambient keyboards. Ek brings out the fullness of each sound, creating a sound that’s deceptively massive considering how often this feels like a singer-songwriter record. But, it’s also worth noting that when he was working on this album, Andrew definitely name dropped Sigur Ros to me as an inspiration. It’s subtle, but that influence is especially evident on the haunting “Yours To Shake” and the prophet-like “Arms Unknown.”
While a thousand imitators were busy trying to rip off Fleet Foxes, Greylag hits the same mixture of earnest songwriting, folk minimalism, and ethereal revelation without ever feeling disingenuous. They feel far more like a colleague than a carbon copy. And despite the fact that this came out on Dead Oceans (home of indie darlings like Mitski, Phosphorescent, Better Oblivion Community Center, Slowdive, Bright Eyes, etc, etc), this album seemed to escape the sort of widespread celebration that it absolutely deserves.
And no, it’s not just because Andrew’s a friend. This is an incredible record, through and through. In fact, after I finished my listen through for this review, I flipped it back over for another listen. And I never do that.
Do yourself a favor, and just listen to the whole thing right now.