Conor Gains – Compass
A
good record is a lot like a good movie. There are characters, an essential
narrative, and enough depth in both to take the audience from the edge of their
seats and place them right in the middle of the current scene. And from the
depths of his soul, songwriter Conor Gains masterfully directs the story of his
debut album, Compass, in a performance that would be worthy of an
Academy Award in the film industry.
Our
story begins as we shadow a set of footsteps on the track “I Know.” A rhythmic
snapping starts. Is this some Philly soul revving up the engine? The band is
tuning up, and the anticipation is getting ridiculous. Out of the foggy night;
enter Conor’s voice. He’s searching, yearning for something different. To find
the treasures where there has only been trash. The urban landscape in
springtime, the feel good energy that comes with a new season, it’s all around
us. Our intuition, like some sort of deity, is guiding us forward to where we
need to be. It’s a fresh start.
The
amplifiers start to warm up a little bit, and we step into a swanky blues club
in “Walking Alone.” Tides of bittersweet melancholy start to wash us out to
sea. In the isolation we find a place to think. The heavens open up and let us
know we’re not alone. The irony is how alone we had to get just to discover
this. Gains picks up the beat in “Dance Like It’s Your Birthday,” and suddenly
it’s like we’re sitting piano-side to Stevie Wonder during the prime of his
electrifying career. Horns get peppered in, and it’s starting to feel like a
sunny summer day on Bourbon Street.
“Ordinary
Love” takes us sailing away from the Crescent City and into a sultry love
scene. Giving someone everything, receiving so much ecstasy in return. No
matter the pain you’ve got to go through to get this feeling, it’s worth it
every time, as Gains so intelligibly relates to us. We start to descend into
the macrocosm of questions that this love poses in us in “I’ve Been Looking for
Your Heart;” what will it take for us to get that happy ending we always have
chased after. How will we conquer love together when we’re so completely
different? The band omits a brooding moan that is shattered by guitar feedback
and an explosive climax. In the traces of notation left, “In My Head” takes us
deep within our singer’s psyche, and the twists and turns created by the
thousands of synchronized sounds. Just when we’re in the grip of insanity,
“Back to You” arrives to rescue us and bring us back to the forgiving land that
we started our quest from. “Miracle” cranks up the heat on the amps once more
to see just how much paint we’ve got left on the walls, stepping swiftly into
your consciousness and leaving the debris of burnt and bashed guitars in its
wake. “Darkness in the Light” and its spiritual sequel song “Mexico” draw the
curtains closed on the record through a vivid black and white lens that
stylishly slips back into the night like a character from a classic noir
picture.
If Compass has
but one flaw, it is that after its ten song collection comes to a fitting end,
it leaves me desperate for much, much more output from its enigmatic leading
man.
Gary Williams
