Bon Iver – S P E Y S I D E
“Speyside is not a place; speyside is a person that you get stuck with; speyside is a pain that you cannot erase.” – /r/boniver
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[4.77]
Tim de Reuse: For Emma, forever and ever, ad infinitum. A tedious spiral of Emma, on and on, rhyming “good” with “could” with “stood”, rhyming “me” with “sor-Ry,” wallowing in unspecific folksy grayness, cashing in on his own bubble fifteen years too late. For Emma, an ourobouros.
[2]
Taylor Alatorre: Leaning into it, playing to type, giving the people what they want — there’s something about hitting age 40 that brings out public displays of commitment to an inescapable bit. As with Vampire Weekend’s latest offering, “S P E Y S I D E” is built on the idea that what has been deconstructed can be reconstructed again, using the master’s postmodernism to bring Ithaka back to its pre-violated state, or something like it. The title and artwork are fake-outs, as is the producer credit for Jim-E Stack, whose role is to engineer the kind of quarantined sparseness that’s traditionally cast as the arch-enemy of artifice. It never was, but it’s still fun to pretend, and Vernon’s lyrics retain their power even when interpreted as a self-conscious bid for authenticity. If you’ve ever sent a decade-late apology letter to someone, you know that honesty is a fool’s game there, that every attempt to avoid trickery will lead to it popping up in some other sentence. “I hope you look” is not a good enough reason on its own to hit “send,” but if you can turn a good phrase and do a good falsetto, it sometimes can be.
[7]
Alfred Soto: Satisfied with their 2023 Pitchfork Music Festival appearance after years of mockery, I sat down, linen napkin folded on my lap, awaiting tastier goodies. “Tasty” is right, or, rather, “tasteful”: acoustic guitar and strings! This isn’t for me, but I’ll note that “What is wrong with me/I’m so sorry” shows a humility absent from his passive-aggressive peers.
[6]
Andrew Karpan: Described by Mr. Iver as “an apology to a couple of people he loved and hurt,” the idea conceptually brings to mind the indy rock generation’s version of Em’s Recovery.
[5]
Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: smh I can’t believe another white electronic pop artist is pivoting to mid acoustic folk music in his late career. what happened to integrity? this Justin Vernon guy is such a culture vulture.
[5]
Nortey Dowuona: Bon Iver’s plaintive, taut guitar playing seems at first to provide wrenching emotional bloodletting, but the lyrics quietly cloak it behind metaphor: “as I fill my book, what a waste of wood,” “I can’t rest on no dynasty, yeah, what is wrong with me?”. The gentle string arrangements from Rob Moose weep where his words are not allowed to. The 4/4 line verses feel more and more apologetic as they go on, but the apology is still cloaked, hidden despite the light, frail feeling of the music. The deeper you dig into the words, the more they scarper, the more they obfuscate, until you throw up your hands. It is a message for someone, but that might only be you if you were offered a parley at a quay with someone who just kept retreating from you the closer they got.
[6]
Jel Bugle: I have to admit that I got chills when the guy started singing — not good chills, to be fair. I just can’t get into this country music that isn’t country music, I’d rather listen to Brad Paisley or Zac Brown, someone who could sing this kind of thing with a bit of pep, a bit of sparkle. The wail of modernity is just not for me, the new shoegaze, staring inconsolably at your shoes and airing your most miserable of thoughts.
[2]
Mark Sinker: Bon feeling sorry for himself, me not feeling even a bit sorry for him. Yes I do interpret “Speyside Quay” to mean he was on a whiskey-fuelled bender and did something unacceptable. The words are bad, and so is the treatment on his voice.
[2]
Aaron Bergstrom: If Justin Vernon has a little dial that goes from “Haunting” to “Haunted,” this may be the furthest into the red that he’s ever pushed it.
[6]
Dave Moore: Docking a point for the annoying stylized spaces between each letter. Not as bad as “L.I.F.E.G.O.E.S.O.N.” in title formatting or sound — inoffensive somber busker shit — but not much to recommend it, either.
[4]
Ian Mathers: Hi, it’s me! I’m the guy who didn’t pay much attention to Bon Iver until something made me check out 22, A Million, and it kind of blew me away. I’m a real person, and I exist! Then “Hey, Ma” had none of that record’s weird power, and I stopped paying attention again. Is this what he sounds like these days? It’s pretty, and the lyrics are decently moving, but it’s kind of boring.
[5]
Harlan Talib Ockey: Instrumentally direct like For Emma, Forever Ago, lyrically direct in a way Justin Vernon almost never is. Perhaps not distinctively Bon Iver, but still well-crafted.
[7]
Katherine St. Asaph: 2:00. That’s when you realize that this surprisingly stately grown-folks folk was Bon Iver all along.
[5]