Album Review: Braids - 'Shadow Offering'
There’s more here than meets the eye. Montreal-based trio Braids digs a little deeper into love and heartbreak with “Shadow Offering.”
“You wanted freedom so I gave it to you,” sings lead singer Raphaelle Standell-Preston on the opening track, “Here 4 U.” The album was originally intended for release a few months ago, but the irony might be that the message rings truer now. “Parts of me are waiting, and parts of me move on,” she continues, as a piano and some synths accompany her, leading to something that sounds far larger than a three-piece group.
What began as a cohort of high school friends in Calgary, Canada, has now become a successful, mature sounding alternative band who aren’t afraid to wear their hearts on their sleeves. On “Shadow Offering,” an overarching theme of love can be heard through each track -- but the kind of love that’s much more complicated beneath the surface. Backed up by two other members, Austin Tufts and Taylor Smith, Standell-Preston sings unapologetically about love and all its caveats.
“Shook my foundation, young buck, 22 year old who treats me badly,” she says on “Young Buck” a track in which she doesn’t let herself off the hook. “The blaring example of what I am drawn towards and should strongly move away from.” The song includes a bouncing synth riff, sometimes a little purposefully flat, placed parallel alongside her firmly controlled vocals.
"We wrote this song to capture the nervous anticipation of desire, the delicate chase of seduction, the highs and lows of obsession, and the humour in between," said Standell-Preston. "To want to possess someone, make them desire you, fall for you, only to learn that to lust is not to love."
There’s a sense of cohesion throughout the record, with running piano bits and string sections, but it’s Standell-Preston’s vocals that take center stage, particularly on tracks like “Eclipse (Ashley)” and “Oceans.” Allowing herself to swoop up into her higher registers and then spiral back down, she channels what might remind some of another Canadian singer, Joni Mitchell. Strong, confident, theatrical in a sense, she squarely pronounces every last consonant in her singing and tells a story.
“Wake up, I’m doing all the labor, all your heavy lifting, get your shit together, we’re getting really tired of all your excuses,” she says on “Fear of Men,” reminding us bluntly that love requires work.
“There's more hopefulness in this record than anything else I've written," said Standell-Preston. "I think the songs are more human, more tangible, more honest."
That particular honesty on the nine-minute “Snow Angel” deserves a close listen.
“Fake news and indoctrination, closed borders and deportation...am I only just realizing the injustice that exists?” she asks in a spoken poetry type of way. Concerned about whether or not everything will be ok, not merely within her own personal world, but the greater world around her -- human society, the environment, animals, and so on.
“I wanna be a mother, but I shouldn’t bring another,” she continues, simultaneously recognizing her own privilege as a white woman. As the track moves on, she gets progressively more powerful, a sort of Patti Smith-style culmination.
“I wish you could just be quiet for a moment...just let me get through to you,” she sings towards the end of the album on “Just Let Me,” a song that discusses the distance that can be created between two people without them realizing. What can be done to bridge gaps that seem so large and looming? There’s a begging for communication, but it isn’t desperate or unhinged -- it’s the deep plea from a lover to make things work. “Shadow Offering” is a beautiful reminder of the various ways love can look different to the people involved in it.
Words by Allison Rapp