Quite the ultimatum, Jonathan…
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[6.71]
Jonathan Bogart: Thirteen years ago, when I was still adoring modern bands for reminding me of Sixties psych/baroque/sunshine pop (God, remember the Corals?), I probably would have loved this a lot. I still like the skronky saxophone, and I’ll probably always get a small thrill from a harpsichord — and props for accurate use of the technical term “viscidity,” which none of the lyrics sites have picked up on — but the thud-thud-thud of the rhythm is more obnoxious than compelling. Syncopate or die.
[7]
Will Adams: Lurches at first, then marches, then stomps over everything by the third minute, when the saxes start to freak the fuck out. Holter’s assertive performance — you can hear the punctuation of the chorus’ “I! Can’t! Swim!” — holds everything together wonderfully.
[7]
Alfred Soto: A song tethered to a hook that goes “I can’t swim! Its lucidity! So clear!” accompanied by harpsichord asks for trouble, but Julia Holter’s expressive non-singing voice is a delight — here.
[6]
Anthony Easton: I am not sure what exactly she is saying, and the enunciating of certain sounds doesn’t help — but I like the whistling quite a bit.
[4]
Micha Cavaseno: Going back and remembering Julia Holter was initially a member of the Dublab scene — a place where Gaslamp Killer, Daedelus and Flying Lotus once rubbed shoulders — only to emerge with her foot firmly stamped into the realm of the traditional singer-songwriter, claiming the great plains in the name of Mars is always a bit of a doozy. Until those seas of slurry weird saxes come in, turning the funny poise and crispy harpsichord stiffness into a crest of calm. Admittedly I’ve ragged on the tendency of the theatrical in songwriting to give me a sense of the arthritic, and in no way does “Sea Calls Me Home” avoid that. Whereas on Loud City Song, an album which benefited from a spacious and spindling effect, Holter was loaded with care and tension, now she seems both headstrong and flat-footed on “Sea Calls Me Home.”
[6]
Thomas Inskeep: This would’ve been a college radio hit thirty years ago, or twenty, or ten, and I assume it will be today: baroque pop accented with great instrumentation. The sax bridge is perfectly Ornette Coleman-squonky on a track sung by a woman in total control of her voice, both in terms of her writing and what comes from her mouth.
[8]
Juana Giaimo: There are certain moments in life in which we need to detach from the stable ground that was holding us to discover the always movable and confusing sea, until we find another land. Julia Holter’s music, with its minimalistic magnitude and deepness, reflects this movement from the known to the unknown perfectly. “Sea Calls Me Home” causes certain discomfort at first: her voice is captivating but has a certain cadence that we’re not used to, and the sax at the end is quite messy and contrasts with the harmony we thought we had found. But once we get through it, the result is a sense of peace: there we can see the shore. The journey was hard — but didn’t we enjoy it a little bit? — and now we’re a new self. That’s what these new Julia Holter’s songs make me feel: in a moment when everything around me seems to be crumbling down, she shows me the possibility of being a new self.
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