
People who bet on themselves are an increasingly rare bunch, and the grim prognosis is that they’ll become far fewer in the years to come. There’s abundant evidence to suggest this. And thus, before you go home sobbing that all is lost, you might as well lend some support to those fighting for the uncommon man – for themselves.
If politics and scary blog posts haven’t done enough to scare you, just cast your eyes toward the once glorious sports events to which we’re treated this Summer. Sure, the Euros, Copa America, and, soon, the Olympics are a chance for some to celebrate the power of the human spirit and get a bit tipsy. But for a great number of people, it’s a chance to celebrate old, idiotic fairytales about nationalism, about moronic dead revolutionaries decked in a red or green shirt.
Few people think for themselves, let alone do things for themselves. With this in mind, Icarus Phoenix’s grind is all the more worthy of admiration. There’s no cause being celebrated or defended here, other than the indomitable spirit that makes some create art for art’s sake. We sure ain’t got no Oscar Wilde in 2024, but we have a few artists of similar conviction, fortunately.
The track that opens this album, decked in an artwork that imagines how Picasso might’ve interpreted the scene of Ophelia’s drowning, is “The Things You Never Told Me.” And while there’s deep hurt and melancholy expressed through the lyrics, rest assured, this is not music that’s hard on the ears. The sound is a pristine, radio-ready indie-rock.
It’s a sound that lends itself to all types of songwriting ideas. And, in fact, the elasticity of it is furthermore proven with songs like “Live.Give.Lose.Grow” about growing up and outgrowing companions, or “When it’s time to go (I don’t know if it is),” a song that brings to mind 2000s Irish indie band, The Thrills.
Artists can be selfish. If they’re successful, the world gives them a free license to act this way. But while Icarus Phoenix are doing music for themselves, they’ve no problem giving audiences what they assume that they might want. Songs like “High Tide,” “The Sword and Harp” or “Doctor! Doctor!” are certainly moody, but they’re also as pop oriented as anything that the radio might think of throwing at you.
Where does this all leave us? Untrusting of bellicose movements, hopefully, and willing to support the people making art because it’s better than making war. Album closer, “Kanashimi,” is one the band offers to themselves. It’s nearly 9 minutes long and flows in and out of a dream that’s filled, then drained of love. Please yourself, and you may may be able to also make the world happier.