December is such a tragically dead month for new releases that itâs a rare gift to get an album this fucking good this late in the year. My friend Marcos sent me a link to Heavy Metal out of the blue a few days after it was released â I donât always listen to what he sends me, and he knows that, but Iâm so glad I went into this with a clear mind and open heart. Itâs been ages since a first listen of an album hit me this hard.
Lyrically Heavy Metal feels like what I always wanted from Dan Bejar but never quite got, and musically it almost feels like John Cale tried to rerecord Paris 1919 from memory with a single microphone and a cracked Ableton rip. Or something like that? Mostly, it feels like a wholly original statement that canât be contained, like someone finally letting go of any inhibition and confessing every private insecurity without fear. His lyrics teeter from darkly hilarious (âlike Brian Jones I was born to swimâ) to bizarrely visceral romanticism (âyou were born to break my big hairy football arms/like clean windows kill birdsâ) while regularly returning to the ultimate questions life has to offer: love, desire, purpose, God, you name it. Itâs self deprecating without being self indulgent and immensely wise without ever feeling like an intellectual exercise.
Itâs an album that feels like too rich of a body of work to even properly engage with on the first several listens. Winterâs emotionality is so deep, so personal and so bizarre that it becomes universal â so relatable yet so exaggerated and disjointed that it borders on psychological horror. Iâm going to be picking up on new things within these songs for a long time to come, and I suspect this album will stand out to me as one of the absolute best when I look back at the year.Â