Welp, it’s o fficial: I’ve fallen the fuck o ff. Ten years ago, if you had put a record like Sirens on my stereo, with its pastoral atmospheres and nostalgic sympathies, I would have lit it on fi re and thrown it across the room. I would’ve listened to “This Is On Me” (featuring Sarah Bareilles), screamed something about snore-core and blowing Sting’s lute, and then lit something on fire.
But age and experience have clearly broken my will to be cool, and here I sit, having a pleasant afternoon listening to the pastoral and nostalgic folk/pop of Ben Abraham. No fi res, nor screaming and (thankfully) no lute. Abraham’s songs are mature, his sense of melancholy tempered, his arrangements pillowy and romantic. I’m not sure if I would be able to pick him out of a dentist o ffice playlist or the soundtrack to a midseason replacement show on the CW, but that doesn’t really distract from the fact that it’s totally pleasant. Calm. Soothing. Pleasant. Ah, well—I used to be fun.
—Sean L. Maloney
