If Alwyn Morrison’s debut EP, Heartsplit, concerned itself, as the title suggests, with affairs of the heart, Trial, his latest quartet of songs, takes a broader look at life. Okay, love is certainly part of it, this being a more general look at a passage through the stages of aftershock of a failed relationship – namely betrayal, pain, self-defence, and survival. Or, as the artist himself observes, an accidental concept album that takes the form of perhaps “a charging document, a pretrial motion, a verdict, and finally a court order.” (Hence the EP name.)
‘Puzzle Piece,’ then, is the accusation, a look at the evidence of a decaying situation and a perfect blend of rock ‘n’ roll chops and synthy soundscape, the two coming together to make a contemporary piece of poised power pop, one where vertical analogue guitar strokes carve their way through electronic horizons.
This is followed by the Brit-pop-infused ‘Everybody Bleeds’: a fist-in-the-air hard-pop meets accessible rock, groovesome contagion meets anthemic highs, all soaked in distant Hammond organs and mellifluous melody. But with ‘Monster’ we find him at his most introverted and reflective: an open acoustic ballad, a letter never sent to his mother, and, essentially, a taking stock of who he actually is. An understatement that speaks volumes, very smart indeed.
This quality quad ends with what, for me, is the high point, ‘Fireflies’, a blend of layered and shimmering guitars and confident beats, poetic and metaphorical imagery, perfect pop delivered through the sonic weapons of a heavier form, a song caught between pop and a hard place, the best of both worlds, not to mention the optimistic light at the end of the tunnel.
So what’s the verdict? Well, that isn’t really the point; the point, as always, is the journey, not the destination. It’s a learning curve; personal and intimate, yet universal and relatable. But more than that, it is a suite of killer songs, and that, at the end of the day, is what really matters.
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