Dehiscence
It starts off with an intake of breath. Wendy Eisenberg is a killer; they move like a mythical craftsperson, firing off perfect boxes, each perhaps a casket for every story or feeling, out over the churling ocean. They’re also captaining a vessel, retrieving them one at a time, surely saving them from obsolescence, which is sometimes what happens to feelings once they’re emitted out into the world. They possess an easy clarity of skill, invention, power, and heart, and all the times I have gotten to witness a live performance have been unique in that there was nothing else I would have rather been doing. I think we all have places we think of, people on our minds, dreams we’re dissecting, wild scenarios playing out to varying degrees of completion; distractions or focuses, it doesn’t matter, we’re rarely where we are. When I have seen Wendy Eisenberg though, I am all the way there. This album, which is a collection of recordings made during quarantine, is an intimate offering that to me, redefines the idea of confessional songwriting. There have been superlatives heaped upon a lot of white dude songwriters who kind of casually reference their dinner, a sexual encounter or the chance of one; next to Eisenberg though, this all seems so hollow. Wendy’s lyrics are free of pretense or artifice, and both whisper and cut deftly from her past through her future, like a hot knife; any blood flash drying into electrical mosaic, ions charged by design to stay exactly still for generations to come, no doubt they will study this music as a pristine example of transcendence: an evolutionary offshoot somewhere between human and machine. Now, I don’t say this to be disparaging at all; I know roboticism is often used to denote a lack of emotion. In this case I’m referring to their mastery of the instrument to the point of eradicating any hint of strain or following; they’re like a person commanding a horse, having become one with the terrifyingly strong creature. The singing also belies an understanding of humanness that seems to be the best version of our potential for feeling, for reaching out, and for receiving one another.
One thing that strikes me about this music is a willingness to be present, to name the things we are feeling, to matter of factly acknowledge love and pain; there is something so special about also sharing small details within heaviness. It’s the little things that hold us aloft at times, and they are the elements of a memory that keep it from turning into an endless cycle of that overwhelming magnitude of the awareness that something has happened and cannot be undone. Whether that is the last time you said goodbye to someone, or a mistake that looks impossible in retrospect, these actions and words left hanging in the air behind us can take on a life of their own, pride and regret coloring over time that we can’t get back or re-experience. Often, as time goes on, it can be hard to access these memories; you might have recounted them so many times that you aren’t sure if you know what happened or the story of what happened. Songs can be an excellent means to crystallize things for the songwriter, encasing a feeling, memory, or dream into, as Eisenberg’s album title suggests, a pod or wound, that upon playing or listening again, is then burst open: dehiscence. While that may seem a little gruesome, I think it’s a succinct description of the process. The real wonder here is that the songwriter then gives this thing to others; this thing that can have an ineffable specificity attached to it for them. It is now given over to anyone who wishes to accept it, to project their own damage, longing, or quiet satisfaction into it, to ensure that when that wound opens again, their distinctive rainbow is what pours out; every song is a threadbare t-shirt that will never disintegrate.
And hey, I’m really glad to introduce you to this music, if you haven’t yet heard it; and if you can believe it, you can come down to the new space next Friday 10/30 to listen to Wendy Eisenberg live. I have always felt that shows were integral to a more fulfilling life, interacting with music that you can hear, in a completely different way. Getting to see something that you connect with in one way happen in front of you in another way is no small thing, and it’s this expansion of understanding that, to me, really begins to connect the dots. Wendy’s new album, Auto, is out now on Ba Da Bing Records, so seeing them solo in a setting like this is bound to enhance your reading of the material, and that attention to the furthering of an artist’s context, is what we want to provide to this community. Join us for this unique, intimate opportunity to connect with an amazing contemporary artist.
Wendy Eisenberg - Dehiscence
Saturday October 24th 2020, 7pm
Just put it on at your house using a stereo or the internet or whatever you want.