A deluge of blasé releases — including Cold War Kid’s regrettably mediocre Mine is Yours — have indie megafans restlessly itching for a new fix. But don’t waste your time scouring Pitchfork reviews for the next big thing.
Scattered Trees, the most exceptional up-and-comers you’ve never heard of, are quietly ascending the ranks while industry heavyweights struggle to regain footing.
Their secret?
To put it plainly: they’re real. Sure, anyone can fake fame — just ask Ke$ha — but no amount of glitzy sex appeal or hipster navel-gazing can replace sheer, unadulterated talent. The EMI-signed Chicago based sextet, helmed by lyricist Nate Eiesland, fervently reminds audiences that mainstream doesn’t necessarily reign supreme, and that music-makers need only “leave blood on the stage emotionally” to leave listeners reeling.
Scattered Trees’ sophomore album, Sympathy, released April 5, is a nine-song “labor of love” penned in memory of Nate Eiesland’s father, whose sudden passing prompted the band’s reunion in 2009. Yet unlike Heart of Glass, the Trees’ low-profile 2007 debut, Sympathy wears its tragedy on its sleeve, boasting fragile, albeit exquisitely-crafted melodies trembling with bereavement. Helpless yes, but hopeful, too, it immortalizes Eiesland’s fragile portrait of love, loss and resilience in ways that might not place Scattered Trees on the charts, but nevertheless remains wildly compelling.
“This record is an attempt for me to be able to tell my father’s story and make him ‘forever’ in a way,” Eiesland has said. “If I can make something of value that people can pour themselves into, it has the possibility to hopefully never end. It’s the one thing that I could think of to do to honor his memory.”
True to form, Sympathy opens with “Bury the Floors,” a sparse, tenderly-sung atmospheric ballad that echoes from wall-to-wall with an unheard howl. “It’s the house that I built you to fall,” Eiesland sings. “We started to walk then we stood up to crawl.” Its no-frills brilliance recedes into “A Conversation About Death on New Year’s Eve,” another lush standout threaded with intricate melodies, raw lyricism and the specter of loss.
The deceptively up-tempo “Four Days Straight — studded with vibrant riffs and percussive beats — packs an evocative punch, briefly lifting Sympathy’s downcast overtones. “Oh no! We both have broken hearts,” Eiesland barks. “Yours just took you away.”
But it’s Sympathy’s first single, “Love and Leave,” that truly dazzles, blending the Trees’ trademark eclecticism with child-like fragility. Eiesland’s harmonies, hushed as they are, swiftly evolve into a fractured masterpiece, brimming with helplessness. “I’m crazy, I’m crazy,” Eiesland screams desperately, at its height. “I’m going crazy.” It’s inexpressibly heart-rending, the loveliest of elegies, and very certainly secures its place as one of the best “off-the-map” songs of 2011.
While Sympathy loses momentum over its latter half — particularly in heavy-handed tracks like “I Swear To God” and an off-kilter “Where You Came From” — it maintains a muted sense of poise.
The intricacies of “Love and Loss,” frequently mined by mainstream musicians, are explored in new dimensions here, with unusual audacity. Yet for Scattered Trees, the returns have been enormous.
“Sonically, I think we are becoming more brave than we ever were before. We are using some more sparse arrangements, which is a vulnerable thing to do when you have six people standing on a stage, but we still like to explore the cinematic side of our music as well.”
All in all, the Trees’ bold experimentation yields poignant results, with Sympathy’s tracklist neatly mirroring the stages of grief — as Eiesland puts it, “its build up, release, and recovery.”
While hardly a crowdpleaser — the greatest never are — it’s sure to gain visibility as a cult favorite in indie circles.
