An enthralling folk sound pairs with gripping lyrical depictions of collapse on Songs from the Apocalypse, the debut album from Asa Stone. Recorded in a Los Angeles apartment, the album immerses in its poetic lyrical abilities and eclectic tonal range — succeeding with a variety of sparser folk atmospherics, twangy pedal steel infusions, and synth-touched intrigue. The memorable result is an album that weaves desolate folk and country into a poetic requiem for a deteriorating world and sense of self.
Opening track “Mountains” envelops with its immersive soundscape, melding a mysterious ambient swell amidst pulsing synths and twangy guitars. “The Rules for Dying” ensues with a warming folk setting, as the layered vocal caressing pleads to “just bring me in if it’s cold.” Buzzing electric guitar emanates following the lyrical desires for nurturing and comforts, seamlessly inviting between tranquil folk and tender rock entrancement. The riveting start to the album continues with single “Bad Luck, Cowboy,” which weaves dreamy strings alongside steady acoustics and a call to “ride on,” during bleak times. “The grass on the hills don’t grow,” scenic depictions arise into a twangy “ain’t no rodeo,” declaration — playing beautifully as an ode to perseverance.
“I’ve tried everything to bring you back to earth,” a sorrowful vocal composure emits on “Float on Sleepy Head,” also excelling in its use of dreamy strings. A particularly magnetic sonic evolution shows in its second half, where steady percussion arrives into a warming array of fuzzy synths and clanging guitar complements; the introspective electro-folk there reminds fondly of Damien Jurado. Coming next, “Wild Fires” embraces a country-touched folk appeal, whilst utilizing imagery of wildfires as a metaphorical and literal response to danger. “Wild fires are burning near my house / The wind will decide about me,” portrays a poetic reflection on facing crisis, and perhaps a commentary on human tendencies to watch, endure, or even embrace disaster rather than solving the issue at hand.
The album’s captivating finale, “And What Good Are the Rest of You?” compels in its rise from solemn acoustic minimalism into a dual-vocal title-touting questioning, bolstered by subtle organs and a subsequent guitar twanging. “Blessed the world for being so cruel,” the vocals let out, lamenting personal strife — “I don’t have enough money to drink for my lights to go out,” — in the face of tumult, and a seeming lack of support system. Songs from the Apocalypse consistently consumes in its explorations of personal and social ruin, set against soundscapes that vary from stripped-down folk to more textured expanses. Quality songwriting is in abundance throughout.
