Embracing themes of personal growth and self-discovery within a memorable range of rock and folk, Growing up, growing out is the consuming debut full-length from Saint Nick the Lesser. The production excels in its commendable tonal variety, ranging from the dynamic pull of “Catfish Bones” — which traverses from Waits-esque folk grittiness into a gripping organ-infused rock ardor — to the punchy brass-laden folk-rock of “God Bless.” The eclectic musical palate combines with storytelling lyricism for a standout listening experience from the artist, who notes that he “grew up playing in punk, ska, and anti-folk bands” and takes particular inspiration from artists like “Laura Jane Grace, Chuck Regan, Tim Barry, and most notably Frank Turner.”
The album is a decade-long collection of songs that, while not a concept album, unintentionally reflects the artist’s personal journey toward embracing life’s uncertainty. He notes the title as being “a reference to my sense of individuation and maturation throughout this process-of transcending my own limits, and fully embracing myself as an artist.” Saint Nick the Lesser continues: “Fundamentally, I hope it inspires others to do the same, as life has been increasingly more beautiful the more I’ve viewed it in flux.”
Opening track “21 Minutes” resonates in its radiant folk sound, pairing steady acoustics and twinkling keys amidst lyrics that convey a pivotal moment in the artist’s journey toward self-acceptance and embracing life’s uncertainty. “The scars on my wrists reminders… That I was always more than enough,” the track concludes with powerful poignancy, following depictions of being obsessed with “self-portraits of all my mistakes” and building “a wall” against others. The “don’t do it, ’cause you’re worth it” beckoning is especially affecting, in being a reassurance to those contemplating personal demise.
Another standout track, “Cassandra” exudes heartache in mourning a child’s loss. “I never held you in my arms but still I carry you with me,” vocals let out alongside twangy, forlorn guitars, alternating between sorrow and understandable anger, with remarks like “I once believed in God and if he exists, when I die he’ll hear from me.” The album melds these visceral, personal moments with broader briskness, like “Train Tracks” — where a twangy Americana charm pairs with lyrical insight, utilizing a runaway train as a metaphor for overwhelming emotional struggles; it’s another artful depiction of the album’s themes, capturing the process of learning to anticipate, survive, and step away from life’s tumults by embracing awareness and change.
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“21 Minutes” and other tracks featured this month can be streamed on the updating Obscure Sound’s ‘Emerging Singles’ Spotify playlist.
We discovered this release via MusoSoup.
