When
Sean Carey first introduced his brand of celestial, orchestrally endowed indie folk in 2010, it seemed like a natural outgrowth of the tones and themes he'd been helping collaborator
Justin Vernon explore as a member of
Bon Iver. Where
Vernon subsequently cast himself as a somewhat mercurial and shape-shifting artist,
Carey's solo work outside of
Bon Iver has remained rather steadfast in its nature. Over the course of three full-length albums, the singer, songwriter, and multi-instrumentalist has crafted a patient world of glacial chamber folk that calls to mind the aching tenderness of
Sufjan Stevens and the icy beauty of
Sigur Ros.
Carey's fourth record,
Break Me Open, does little to disrupt his familiar musical patterns, though its lyrics are certainly more melancholic than earlier outings. Themes of grief, loss, and mortality do battle with gratitude and kindness as his already introspective style veers toward the confessional. As always,
Carey's personal moods are deeply intertwined with the natural world, which provides the bedrock of his art. On "Sunshowers," the sweet arpeggios of his piano meet icy digital interference as he stacks rich harmonies that allude to sun-drenched swims and salty tears. The wistful introduction of "Waking Up" sets up one of the album's most vulnerable tracks as the singer tries to reconcile the heartbreak of lost love. Other tracks include "Desolate," "Paralyzed," and "Crestfallen," giving the listener an indication of
Carey's struggles. Like his other albums, the music is beautifully and artfully arranged with a particularly bittersweet tone. ~ Timothy Monger