4.5/5
True Mountain Laurel, the joint project between Haley Blais and Sam Lynch, released their debut album Angel So Bad on Aug. 28. Under Winnipeg’s own Birthday Cake Records, Angel So Bad leans into a folk sound that Blais and Lynch do well. While tracks feature instruments from fiddle to pedal steel, harmonies consistently take center stage, bringing an intimacy only furthered by the themes explored in each song. Both established singer-songwriters in their own right, True Mountain Laurel takes Blais’s and Lynch’s individual musical talents to another level.
Opening and titular track “Angel So Bad” has the refrain “bitches contain multitudes” — a theme that frames the multifaceted nature of the songs. Uncertainty is dismissed by the narrator here — “The best I’m ever gonna give you is a solid maybe / You know I’ll never settle down and that’s just showbiz, baby” — but is brought up as something that worries the narrator in “Holy Hell,” singing, “When I ask you: / Can you give me your word? / Can you give me your word? / And when I ask you / You come and you go.” Both tracks were lead singles for the project, and do not pull punches for the instrumentals or vocals of Blais and Lynch. Catchy, moody and lighthearted enough, “Angel So Bad” and “Holy Hell” open the door for the rest of the album.
Exploring the introspection that comes with relationships, Blais and Lynch harmonize over personal worries in “Bird of Prey” — “Now suddenly I’m saying / Baby, don’t put our loving cat out here” with a lighthearted tone despite the rolling, anxious guitar.
While Angel So Bad is a product of friends, it is also a clear product of creatives, with the theme of stardom and identity explored in “Sunny” and the tumultuous process of creating in “East of Anything.” The former serves as an intimate portrait — “Sunny with your hair down / Sunny you’re a big star / You don’t need a redesign,” while the latter turns the reflection in on the musicians themselves — “I was sat at my piano, fighting for my life / At the end of my wick / At the end of the night.” Musically, both wouldn’t be out of place as round songs — the rumination of the lyrics is matched by the instrumental.
While the whole album is a tender gut punch, “I Love You, Nicole” is the most honest in its discussion of friendship — ‘But I can’t hate you / No, don’t you see? / Part of me is you and part of you is me.’ This track brightens the middle of the album with lighter guitar, harmonies and the return of the floating pedal steel. The idea of accepting the uncertain and containing multitudes also return here, with the latter half of the song featuring the refrain “Come one day / I’ll finally know” floating through the lush instrumental.
Led in with “Angel Reprise,” an instrumental which revisits “Angel So Bad” musically, “The Trial” picks up with an introspective drone. Much softer and simpler than the rest of the album, lyrically “The Trial” also closes the door — “It seeks you out to reconcile all the things that you just can’t be / Take your name off the big marquee.” As the final track of Angel So Bad, “The Trial” ties both the sonic and lyrical themes into not a bow, but a sort of symbolic knot, which acknowledges a more cyclical nature in the final lines — “Saying a word ‘til it don’t make sense / Then you start it all over again/ From the A, to the B, to the end.” It is clear that Angel So Bad is the product of mutual admiration, both as musicians and as persons. It is hard to tell where the work of one artist begins and the other ends — instead, True Mountain Laurel has galvanized Blais and Lynch as a solid singer-songwriter unit.
