Spanning bluesy indie folk warmth, rock charge, and intimate acoustic sincerity, Mike Stocksdale‘s Connectors is a seamless, story-driven journey threading societal anxiety, long-distance longing, existential restlessness, and the unbridled joy of starting over. Recorded live at Station House Studios in Echo Park, the album captures the spontaneity of musicians sharing a room and also navigating society in present day tumult.
Commencing the album in rousing form, “Nothing Like The Beginning” achieves a lovely energy in its playful stomps, vibrant harmonica, and shimmering acoustics. A celebration of genuine emotion is conveyed in the “you should hear me in the car / with tears flowing down my face” account, as one is “shouting out the new John Cragie record.” Subsequent fears of showcasing this expressiveness, for fear of being knocked down a peg, proves relatable — as does the title-bearing chorus, invoking a sense of renewal and the unbridled joy of starting over despite the fear of being seen. The album’s opener kicks off with warming, reassuring allure; that quality songwriting continues to shine throughout.
“Elevator” ensues, channeling a debonair rock character with twangy adornments and a chugging rhythm guitar section. This track uses the mechanical ascent and descent of its namesake to mirror the dizzying instability of a long-distance infatuation. “You’re an elevator / You take me to the top, and then you let me drop back down,” Stocksdale’s vocals emanate, rising seamlessly to a more rock-charged distortion during this fervent sequence. A scorching-hot guitar solo also enthralls past the two-minute turn. “Wolf Blues” continues the album’s stellar start, unveiling a no-frills bluesy rock heat, complete with wolf-like howls. The lyrics stir as well, utilizing the lone wolf trope alongside restless, domestic frustration of being hungry for attention while unable to actually leave the house — whether due to one’s own volition or extending societal circumstances, which we experienced all too well a half-decade or so ago.
Another standout track, “Ohio” shows Stocksdale as fully capable within the stripped-down folk spectrum as well. Gentle acoustics and lush vocal introspection intertwine beautifully, its “where do I belong if I can’t find you?” yearning coexisting with themes of inevitable change and the fragile beauty of memory. This poignant realization turns the search for belonging into a graceful acceptance that neither people nor places stay the same. Subsequent track “Suspicions of the Apocalypse” then consumes with an artful stylishness, akin to Nick Cave in its spoken-word narration and venomous rock swell, moving from bass-y intrigue to sweltering guitars. Understandable anxiety combines with a touch of humor; a partner’s midnight bathroom break is mistaken for an end-of-the-world scenario, alluding to the silent, chaotic intensity of an overactive mind hidden behind a calm exterior — an all-too-common symptom in today’s chaos-filled world.
Elsewhere, “Probabilities” moves beyond an internal apocalypse into a broader, existential contemplation of the multiverse — though still showcasing a restless mind. A bouncy, melodic rock production pairs with lyrical contemplations — weighing the crushing “ton” of infinite implications against the simplicity of a shared moment. “Still a Chance at Anything” also excels, moving with piano-forward ardor as a motivational, seize-the-day sentiment rings out: “There’s still a chance at anything until you stop breathing.” Abundant in excellent songwriting that spans from societal observation to actionable encouragements, Connectors is a fantastic listening experience from Mike Stocksdale.
