John Ross McEwen’s Late Bloomer is the kind of record that rewards patience. It doesn’t arrive with a big gesture or demand attention; instead, its songs gradually settle into the room, revealing little details the longer they’re allowed to play. McEwen’s acoustic guitar sits at the center, but these aren’t stripped-down singer-songwriter sketches. Saxophone, flute, clarinet, cello, pedal steel and softly handled electronics drift in and out of the arrangements, giving the album a hazy, almost weightless quality. The playing never feels ornamental. With influences including Townes Van Zandt and Sufjan Stevens, each instrument seems to have been given just enough space to deepen the mood without pulling focus from the songs.
There’s a noticeable tension between the warmth of the performances and the heavier subjects running underneath them. Loss, loneliness, love and the strange business of being alive surface throughout, but McEwen avoids turning those themes into grand statements. Instead, there’s something conversational and lived-in about the writing. The album’s ambient side also gives its quieter passages room to breathe. Tracks such as “Paco,” “Cosmic Hum” and “Lincoln MT” have an atmosphere that can be wonderfully absorbing and cozy, and what ultimately makes the record work is its restraint. McEwen doesn’t seem interested in proving anything. He’s simply following a set of songs wherever they lead, and the result is an intimate, quietly affecting album that becomes more compelling with each listen.
