“I Should Have Known the Things You Never Said“, the new album by Icarus Phoenix, is the fourth and easily most harrowing studio album in their discography. The Baltimore indie rock band has a back catalogue that wears its influences on its sleeve, sounding like They Might Be Giants on their heavier tracks, reminiscent of Sufjan Stevens in their softer moments, and incorporating drones and soundscapes akin to The Microphones and Neutral Milk Hotel. Throw in some Death Cab For Cutie and early R.E.M. for good measure, and you’ve built a solid mixtape.
What has always set this band apart is their distinctive approach to songwriting and lyrical content. Their work consistently features a simplicity that fosters meditative introspection, especially when the band fixates on repeating specific lyrics in a manner that evokes a sense of worship, minus the typical drawbacks of Christian music. This album continues this tradition, with frontman Drew Danburry using it more than ever as a cathartic release following a divorce that, clearly, still weighs heavily on him.
The album builds on an EP that garnered the band additional attention this year, making Stereogum’s albums of note. That EP also served as a purifying experience post-separation. While Icarus Phoenix remains introspective throughout both the EP and this album, don’t expect Danburry to delve into the reasons behind the divorce on either project. He is evidently bitter and vocal about his grievances, which might alienate people with certain preconceptions. I encourage listeners to set aside these biases and give this album a fair chance. The ‘Son‘ EP demonstrated that, despite the pain inflicted by his ex-wife, Danburry’s deep love for his son is a driving force. If this isn’t commendable, few things are, and it validates everything expressed on this album.
Lines steeped in depression like “I’ve been working so I can live, but I don’t know why I’m working” on “High Tide” and “I’m not a paycheck. I’m a man with a voice” on “Doctor! Doctor!” offer insight into the feelings many men, especially divorced fathers, experience today. With the divorce rate in America at around 50% and women initiating about 70% of those divorces, approximately a third of all men who have been married have received divorce papers. Although the reasons for divorce are complex and rarely one-sided, it remains true that many men who were genuinely in love can feel blindsided by a system that takes the children and leaves them with financial demands. This can lead to feelings of being deceived by a former partner, a sentiment Icarus Phoenix expresses on the opening track. While we may never fully understand the other side of this divorce or the true reasons behind it, Danburry articulates a valid experience. It’s a haunting prospect for those contemplating marriage and a horror story for those already in it. In a world where “all men are trash,” Danburry feels treated as disposable, to the extent that he doubts anyone would care if he were gone. While there are no clear indications of suicidal thoughts, the profound loneliness and depression could push him to a breaking point. If I were a friend or a family member, I would be genuinely concerned.
The album’s tone is reminiscent of Mount Eerie‘s ‘A Crow Looked at Me‘, which was a deeply detailed account of the artist’s grief following his wife’s death from cancer. Although Icarus Phoenix’s album doesn’t delve as deeply, it remains impactful and provocative. the band achieves a remarkable balance between sharing enough to achieve catharsis and being vague enough to avoid completely tarnishing the reputation of Danburry’s ex, who is also the mother of his son. This album clearly focuses on Drew Danburry and his emotions, not his ex-wife and her perceived wrongs, which was a prudent choice. Both albums resonate with the audience by exploring the burdens faced by men in such circumstances, a narrative often underrepresented in music. There is significant space for these stories in the music world.
Musically, Icarus Phoenix maintains a mid-tempo, contemplative pace that reflects the album’s thematic depth. Despite the harrowing subject matter, it remains melodically engaging. The stripped-down approach is notable, with minimal instrumentation like acoustic guitars, simple drum patterns, and sparse bass lines creating a raw, empty feeling that mirrors the album’s emotional landscape. The dynamics are occasionally boosted by distorted guitars, which, while adding an edge to the music, do not disrupt the flowing melodies. The overall atmosphere is as haunting as the lyrical content, achieved through recurring minor chords that evoke a sense of darkness and sadness and reverb-laden soundscapes that add profound space and emptiness. That is not to say the album is entirely lacking in upbeat musical passages, and while these are fleeting, perhaps they point to a light at the end of the tunnel.
While some may view a man’s post-divorce struggle as pitiable and lacking empathy, divorced men are still deserving of love. Others might argue that men should focus on self-love rather than romantic struggles. By the end of the album, Danburry appears to have found some semblance of peace and acceptance with his situation. He may have discovered a new way to love himself, recognising he is not a mistake. However, despite this light at the end of the tunnel, the closing track, “Kanashimi,” which translates to sorrow, sadness, grief, blues, melancholy, depression, or despondency, suggests that the euphoric peace resonating through the song is a facade. Danburry has accepted that the only person capable of truly loving him is himself, a belief that may limit the joy he could derive from his realisation. The album’s closer is bittersweet, which, for many dealing with divorce, is often the best-case scenario.
Overall, Icarus Phoenix has released an album that is dark and melancholic yet necessary in today’s world. With the high failure rate of marriage and a common narrative that subtly, or sometimes explicitly, devalues men to their financial worth, it’s crucial to acknowledge that these experiences are real for many men navigating the romantic landscape. These men need love and empathy. Perhaps with greater compassion, the landscape could shift so that both men and women do not feel pushed into the seriousness of divorce. An album from Danburry’s ex-wife’s perspective would likely be just as uncomfortably sad, and it’s important to recognise the hardship these situations impose on both parties.
Ultimately ‘I Should Have Known the Things You Never Said‘ is a dark and deeply personal album. However, its unflinching portrayal of heartbreak and emotional turmoil makes it a compelling, albeit painful, listen. By giving voice to a perspective that is often overlooked, Icarus Phoenix has written a set of songs that should resonate with anyone who has grappled with the loss of love.
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