114: Emily Hines - Cedar On The River

Chances are, if you reference a tree in your song title then you'll have my unadorned attention before I've heard a single note. That being said, I was already deep in the world of Emily Hines by the time 'Cedar On The River' tenderly creeps in, the final song on a new album that digs its soft claws in from the outset and never wavers.

A self-confessed "chronically sincere farm girl", Hines sings plaintive and romantic acoustic ballads, small moments of a life that build to something far greater within the woozy timber of her voice.

Each and every song here is worthy of your time, but there's something extra special about the final two songs, Hines' voice gently distorted by a shift in the atmosphere; a radio song carried through the wall, crackled and ambiguous. 'UFO' is the first of these, soft electricity underpinned by a kind of murkiness, like the dust of a room held in a single beam of sun.

Then 'Cedar On The River' draws the album to a solemn close, it's four-and-a-half minutes so patiently delivered, a drawn-out confessional spoken into the quiet night. "I fill my songs with the shit that I was too scared to say to their face," it begins. "Sometimes it takes a while to collect your thoughts."

As the song gradually builds it wraps itself around you, a haze of heavy sentiments but one that feels like an unlocking, a final flourish before what's left behind is revealed. Somewhere in the background a voice softly joins, strings shimmers; listen hard enough and you can surely hear floorboards creek, a smile find the corner of a cheek, as the rain begins to lightly fall in the dark of night you can't see.

~

three / six / five is a daily music-sharing project from gold flake paint; read more about the idea here

If you enjoy this content please consider a paid subscription ~ or buy GFP a cup of coffee via ko-fi

E m b r a c e
S i n c e r i t y