Hurray for the Riff Raff sings of wandering the nation, and discovering a “struggle on the folks.”
The open highway is the nice American literary gadget. Whether or not the instance is Jack Kerouac or Tracy Chapman, the nationwide canon is stuffed with journey tales that observe America’s idiosyncrasies and inequalities, its darkish corners and misplaced wanderers, however in the end seize the hope that a greater life is on the finish of a protracted drive.
Top-of-the-line new albums of this yr joins that custom but in addition diverges from it, proper all the way down to the mode of transportation that it focuses on. At age 17, the singer-songwriter Alynda Segarra left their residence within the Bronx and began hitching rides on freight trains. They ultimately settled in New Orleans and rose to change into probably the most outstanding voices of the Americana scene, recording underneath the identify Hurray for the Riff Raff. Now, on their ninth album, The Previous Is Nonetheless Alive, the 36-year-old Segarra revisits reminiscences of their youth to attract a subversive—and heartbreaking—map of the nation.
Segarra’s voice has smooth edges however a tough heart, befitting songs during which outrage and ache simmer beneath the pastoral. They’re greatest recognized for the 2017 album The Navigator, an operatic story cycle impressed by Segarra’s Nuyorican heritage. Extra just lately, 2022’s Life on Earth was marketed as a piece of “nature punk,” mourning local weather change in new-wave anthems. The Previous Is Nonetheless Alive isn’t fairly so conceptual as these releases, however it affords a reminder that memoir—theoretically an individualistic train—can convey a panoramic sense of locations and peoples.
The songs collage collectively scenes and observations amid country-rock preparations that glimmer with reverb and have free, lassoing guitar solos. Segarra mentions New York Metropolis streets, Florida swamps, and southwestern pueblos, and colours them with sense reminiscences: a childhood picture of “feeding grapefruits to the cows,” a dive-bar recollection of “kissing at the hours of darkness, you realize the sensation.” Characters emerge in equally evocative sketches. Touring as a teen, Segarra fell in with a “barrel of freaks” for whom wandering was survival: “I’m so joyful that we escaped from the place we got here,” Segarra sings.
The temper of those songs is mystical and looking, however with an undercurrent of grief. We meet a good friend referred to as Miss Jonathan, who has holes in her fishnet tights; she will get overwhelmed on the street and isn’t seen once more. On “Snake Plant,” Segarra addresses the fentanyl disaster: “Most of our previous mates are lifeless,” they sing, including, “There’s a struggle on the folks / What don’t you perceive?” “Hourglass” chronicles Segarra’s discomfort at some gathering of yuppie sorts. “I at all times really feel like a grimy child,” goes one line. “I used to eat out of the rubbish.”
As these lyrics recommend, Segarra is making a category critique about the best way that our society grinds down on the susceptible. However the message is generally conveyed flippantly, woven via interpersonal tales. On the extraordinary opener, “Alibi,” Segarra negotiates with a good friend who appears bent on self-destruction. The lyrics are formed by dependancy restoration and suicide-prevention greatest practices—urging the good friend to simply take it daily—however the language is informal and heat. “Play one other hand,” Segarra suggests to the good friend. “Possibly we’ll begin a band.”
The place did the rails take Segarra in the long run? Self-actualization, achievement, liberation? Nothing so triumphant, not less than in response to what’s on the album. For all of the surprise Segarra conveys, this can be a story about radical disenchantment: “Say goodbye to America / I wanna see it dissolve,” they sing, in a tone of trembling dedication, on “Colossus of Roads.” After 9 light, unimposing tracks, the music crescendos noisily on the ultimate correct tune, “Ogallala.” Segarra sings of watching the world burn, after which they sing of ready round in a backyard—settled, at peace, in some new land.
