We are fragile and hopeful and wounded. We just need to be heard sometimes. And when we do, we pray someone is listening. On Mike Kinsella's 10th and best solo album (always as Owen), he shares deeply personal struggles related to sobriety, divorce, and self-defeat. He laid bare his soul and augmented my own in 2020, over and over again.
After deep diving in American Football (Kinsella's seminal emo band) during quarantine, it was another boon when he quietly released The Avalanche in June. His life appears tattered on the record, but there are breaches to repair, maybe, as his shimmering guitar and resonant voice carry the hope of reclamation. Recorded in Bon Iver’s Wisconsin studio with member/producer Sean Carey at the helm, the production introduces subtle pedal steel guitars, strings, and electronic sounds to the mix, accentuating one of the most gorgeously sad records of recent memory.
It’s hard to call The Avalanche a confessional record when Kinsella has long exposed his fault lines. But something here is honest and heartbreaking in unmistakably 2020 ways, resulting in a vulnerability that is transgressive and captivating. “New Muse” is one of the year’s best tracks, with beautiful sweeps of guitars and backing vocals that ache with self-doubt and plead for renewal. Dear Lord, he sings, let me be anything but bored or in love. After the sorrow of parting, he needs a new muse: if she sings for me, I'll sing for you.
On “Dead for Days,” Kinsella describes his father’s death from a head injury—likely due to inebriation—and poignantly worries he could meet the same fate: “Tell my Mom she was right all along / And tell my kids this is where my head hit.” It is sobering speculation. As the song cracks open parallels, he warily acknowledges he will try a different path from his father: “This is what a life in flux looks like / I ain’t got a bed to rest my head / This is how I hide from a guilt that won’t subside / I ain’t got a good reason for leaving."
“On with the Show” throttles like an American Football track, its intricate guitarwork supporting Kinsella as he liberates himself in ironic self-pity: “This is the role I was born to fake / a crucified villain, middle aged / I memorized my lines / and taught myself to cry / On with the show!” Though a reputation for screwing up precedes him, he is willing to perform with unvarnished gusto.
Sitting in the album's heavy center, “The Contours" ruminates over his recent divorce and cuts deep with self-deprecation. “I’m in therapy / She’s in therapy / Turns out all the answers / Are just questions / For next week’s session.” As the song closes, ambient swells of noise grow still and he cannot let go: “Do you mind if I stare? / Or if I put my hands here? / Can I call you mine? / For one more night?” It is devastating and moving songcraft, which is what Kinsella keeps getting right, year after year.
It is often a strange aesthetic truth: the more specific, the more universal. The Avalanche hit me hard and buoyed me up at the same time. Kinsella's problems are not my own; however, by sharing his inner world in such painstaking candor--alongside his stunning musicianship--it unlocks empathy and understanding and resolve. He sings, we listen, muses together.
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