The following is an old and imperfect essay that birthed the idea for this blog. My original writeup can be found here as part of an ongoing weekly thread done by a buddy of mine. Otherwise, here’s a slightly revised version that still doesn’t QUITE fit the general tone of my blog.
When I signed up to do this review, I originally requested to write about Alopecia, an almost perfect album that deserves praise and adoration as it can get, but, at the last second, I decided to change to Eskimo Snow, a difficult, uncompromising record. I did this for a handful of reasons; for one, I felt like Alopecia already has a certain level of recognition where indie-oriented folks are going to discover it simply because of the weight of its name. However, I primarily chose Eskimo Snow because I think that Eskimo Snow often falls into Alopecia’s shadow, with some fans of the band having written it off and many people checking out WHY? just listening to Alopecia and not digging deeper.
I have a complicated relationship with this record; while I love it, nearly two years ago in late January, when I was really, deeply into this album, I almost killed myself. Though I am in a much better place and have a better outlook now, returning to the orgy of depression and twinkling melodies that comprise this record was, admittedly, challenging for me to do. However, I think returning to the album was worth it.
In many ways, it would be apt to call Alopecia and Eskimo Snow two sides of the same coin; the former, though still quite bitter, has a definitive optimism to it and the latter is considerably bleak; the former is a meticulously crafted and nuanced piece of art and the latter is a looser, more freeform work aimed at sounding almost like a live recording; the former with a focus on autobiography and the latter with a focus on direct feeling. Ultimately, Eskimo Snow is a raw, hard take on Yoni Wolf while Alopecia is a more refined and deliberate take on the band’s somewhat eccentric lyricist, and though Alopecia is incredible, I think Eskimo Snow benefits from this. The songs don’t follow any kind of normal structure and just focus on these little snapshots of Yoni’s life and emotional status.
The album starts off with a brief second of building ambience, a loud clang of a xylophone key, and the second comparison Yoni made between himself and Jesus during this era; “I wear the customary clothes of my time, like Jesus did, with no reason not to die.” This is also the first mention of death in the album, and far from the last. Death haunts this record in a way entirely unique to itself but common to the human condition; it’s just there, ever present, creeping up at unexpected times. This is not only a strength in its own specific right, but a strength of the record in general; Yoni’s lyricism is less complete here than it was on Alopecia (it’s mostly scrambled thoughts stacked up against each other, one after the next), and while that prevents him from telling the normal-events-through-an-eccentric-lens stories that make that record great, it does allow him to portray the human condition and give us a greater insight to who he is as a person.
This “incompleteness” shapes the instrumentation and song structure (although perhaps it was the other way around in the writing process), which turns the album into a series of working parts and transitions, each building out of the last while the last falls away like a used wrapper. This is not only fascinating as a listener, but an effective match to the lyricism and a feature that makes the album feel like it’s always moving, always progressing. It keeps it fresh, and the delicate balance that the instrumentation strikes with the lyricism made for a uniquely individualistic record and, in my opinion, gives WHY? a claim to a second truly great record.