Moses Sumney
græ
Jagjaguwar
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Moses Sumney’s debut album Aromanticism surfaced in 2017 showcasing a cherubic falsetto and delicate tunes dedicated to cutting swathes through the status quo of the world demanding he be in a relationship. Despite being enveloped in beautiful tunes and eloquent delivery, it was a decidedly downbeat affair lyrically. It was, of course, also a hugely personal record concerned with his place in society as a young man resolute in his defiance of the expectations that society placed on him.

For his follow-up, his musical and lyrical palette has broadened and his ambition seems to have broadened even further—this release is a two-pronged attack on the music world, with the second volume of græ arriving nearly three months after a first raft of songs was released. Closer inspection reveals that although the album may be listed at 20 songs long, it is actually 15 fully formed songs in length. The other “tracks” are segues of spoken word with light sprinkles of melody that punctuate the album at regular intervals.

In addition to being inward looking, his debut was similarly paced throughout. This time, though, there is a little more vim in his songwriting—a strength born, perhaps, of the confidence of having released a debut album lauded by most who heard it and loved by more than a few. In a recent interview with Pitchfork, he revealed that his maxim had changed from his debut to this follow-up. Whereas his debut had been governed by the notion that “just because you can do something, doesn’t mean you should,” his sophomore effort is, instead, guided by the notion that “if you can do it, do it.”

Sumney sets his stall out immediately on album opener “Insula”—sprinkles of luminescent keys accompany the spoken word introduction to the album. The simple, but effective refrain “Isolation comes from ‘insula’ which means island” is repeated with various vocal effects. Whereas Aromanticism felt insular and concerned with the intensely personal, this refrain seems (to these ears anyway) to be a reaction and reference to John Donne’s famous quote from 1624—"No man is an island, entire of itself” and consequently a desire to broaden the scope that pervades the album.

“Cut Me” is a major indicator of the ways in which Sumney has changed—it is built layer upon layer to reveal its fullest glory. A jaunty bass line and that dreamily delicious falsetto duel with sporadic keys initially, before strings and muted horns chime in to create a sumptuous array of sounds—a glorious tumult of all that is good. Lyrically, it reveals his personal tendencies but also raises the idea that there is no progress without struggle, in lines like, “A stiffness inside my neck and / Bangin’ my head against the desk, woah / If there’s no pain, is there any progress? / That’s when I feel most alive.”

The following track “In Bloom” is a dizzying, delirious blast of love. Pizzicato plucks and lush, swoonsome strings combine with his crystal falsetto to create a slice of unconfined joy. “Virile” offers the first indication that a vim and vigor has been injected into musical arrangements. It starts as you might expect with typical Sumney delicacy consisting of harps and piano lines but then, a welcome change in tempo enters the fray. A thrusting backbeat ramps the pace up and demonstrates that his vocals can shine no matter what the backing. That this muscularity arrives on a tale of failed patriarchy is a sly, knowing stroke of genius.

This mood is further enhanced by “Conveyor,” which, if anything, pushes the beat further to the forefront with its ‘80s “Stranger Things” chords proving to be a brief respite from the chugging, insistent grind of the beat. The segue into “Boxes” offers a chance for an illustrious cast (including Ayesha K Faines, Taiye Selasi and Michael Chabon) to offer words of wisdom over the sublime atmospherics—words of wisdom that sum up the challenges that Moses Sumney confronts as a black man, the son of an immigrant in an increasingly hostile environment.

The jazzy quality of “Gagarin” comes courtesy of the Esbjorn Svensson Trio, before the estimable Jill Scott lends her sensual, seductive tones to a brief spoken word interlude. Elsewhere, there’s the winsome, tenderness of “Colouour” and another spoken word track that offers more space for assorted folk to speak truth to power.

As the first volume draws to a close, a whirling dervish of a song lurks in plain sight. A gently throbbing beat and some flourishes of guitar and typically marvelous harmonies build to a state of trance like transcendentalism, further propelled by a Middle Eastern vibe—it is quite irresistible. And there, in the lyrics, is the central theme of the record: “Cuz in the valley of the sure / You cannot be neither/nor / You’re fated to pick a door / Only the lonely are lukewarm.”

There is a sense that almost every split second is crammed with ineffable beauty—from the spine-tingling atmospherics, through the celestial glory of his falsetto harmonies to the melodic magnificence of his compositions and it can be quite overwhelming at times. How can such beauty be instilled at almost every turn?

The second volume offers up the stunning “Me In 20 Years” and it does nothing to dissuade you from the notion that Sumney is some form of angelic host sent to enrich our musical lives from above. There is a slight lull towards the end of the record as atmospherics take precedent over melody, but in some strange way it comes as a relief—after all there’s only so much beauty one can take before a heart gives way.

Just as he offers the deepest introspection lyrically, so this album merits the same level of attention. It needs a listener’s focus to revel and delight in every one of it nuances. Put your headphones on, lock the door and slip into his world—you will be rewarded.

The græ of the title is a nod to the in-between states that Sumney exists in and his resolute refusal to be put into a box of anyone’s making. In a world filled with “cancel culture” and the increasing polarization of opinions, Sumney dwells instead in the grey areas, where definitive roles and opinions are rendered redundant—the only interesting place to be.

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