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The ex-Vampire Weekend multi-instrumentalist melds folktronica and Americana for a project that is suitably warming, though is perhaps strongest in its most pared-down moments. His third studio album since his departure from the band, it is a relatively sharp left turn into a more subtle approach. As much Grizzly Bear in this album’s DNA as there is the wavering croons and woozy electronic beats of a chameleon like Sufjan Stevens, making the organic and the robotic get along is a fragile juggling act. Possible, but not without some serious fine-tuning. They somehow both have to share the same workload, whilst simultaneously not stepping on each other’s toes. Additionally, if an artist is to decide on one or the other to take centrestage, then all the stops really need to be pulled out. This is the part that is often avoided. If you lose the natural, the artificial elements have to pull more than their initial weight. The end result can typically be underwhelming as there is a trepidation in committing wholly to one or the other or both, and for certain points in ‘American Stories’, this is precisely the case.
Not to burst out of the gates too quickly with the critical laundry list, as Rostam showcases an admirably diaristic disposition across this album. It sets the emotional core of this album as being somewhat lost in spectation, seeing human nature’s inconsistencies as both the restriction on our betterment, and equally the state that keeps us moving through life. Whether this is in the romantic sense or the generally interpersonal sense, Rostam is often talking to people from behind the glass. Commentating the happenings to us, the listener, and offering philosophy as the song progresses. Ultimately though, there is a sense that it may fall on deaf ears. “Forgive Is to Know” ruminates on the ways we accept things that have occurred to us, how we handle other people’s mistakes. “To err is human, to forgive is divine” is a key piece of wisdom at this song’s centre, yet it feels almost as if Rostam has said this before, only to have it be forgotten in favour of the usual responses. “All of us are guilty, none of us are innocent” is gut-wrenching within the track’s schema, it admits to the futility of our reactions. We’re doomed to repeat the same cycles of behaviour ad infinitum until this ultimate balance is achieved.
“To Feel No Way” is then the natural progression from there. Lamenting a previous manner of solving problems, giving way to the isolation of a love or relationship concluded. It could’ve been different, had we not lost that ability to forgive. These breakdowns are often inevitable, and people do reach a breaking point. Maintenance of relationships then is not the adherence to a formula of communication, predicated largely upon accepting wrong done and leaving it untouched. The true way forward with people is to accept the constant flux of existence, that perceptions and ways of thinking and feeling do evolve. It’s this fighting against both the natural growth and decay that terminates partnerships so prematurely.
Outside of moments like these, which are obviously rich with sustenance, the overall state of ‘American Stories’ is a little scant. For every moment of intense, intimate confession comes a stint wherein the musical and lyrical direction walks the other way before it can get truly captivating. In other spots, the production gives the instrumentation little room to breathe in favour of manufactured sonic euphoria. Even still, Rostam has not failed his duties entirely. The goal of any singer-songwriter release should be to enlighten others to either personal turmoil, or inner monologues detailing the idle thoughts within the day-to-day. By this metric, ‘American Stories’ is a reasonably comfortable success. The aesthetic choice of twangy Americana was unfortunately not quite pushed far enough to fully justify its place on the project, leaving it currently reading like a mildly passionate artistic experiment. In saying this though, Rostam has now shown glimmers of a knack for this sort of sound. Silver linings, people!
Dan Will Review 