Sinai Vessel I Sing

Clocking in at over 40 minutes and with 13 songs, Caleb Cordes’ latest is, if anything, wide-ranging. Going from the low-key bossanova beats of the opening Doesn’t Matter to the bashed-out alt-rock leanings of Country Mile, Cordes also tackles a myriad of topics. The most recurring, and hardest to juggle, is the struggle with late-stage capitalism. But the more personal reflections on friendship (Window Blue) and internal battles (Attack) more than balance that out. Surrounding oneself with a duo of empathetic accompanists Bennett Littlejohn on bass (Hovvdy, Claire Rousay) and Andrew Stevens on drums (Hovvdy, Lomelda) makes for the best-sounding Sinai Vessel output yet. Littlejohn co-produced the album and has been in high demand as a producer/mixer of late, as well as putting out his own under-the-radar gem, Deep Dark South, in 2020.

No less than four of I Sing’s tracks address the impacts of the decade’s rampant inflation and the widening gulf between the haves and have-nots. Important issues may not translate so well into Cordes’ mellifluous work, where any sense of anger or frustration is only hinted at. The least of these, Dollar, references sage advice from AAA and checking one's FICO score at a house show. Maybe tongue-in-cheek references, but overly clunky ones. Much better is the buzzy pop of Challenger and the less-on-the-nose Laughing, with the earnestly sung “I’ve been waiting for the trickle down” landing particularly well. Laughing also makes for one of the album’s standout musical moments given Nick Levine’s (Pinegrove, Jodi) sympathetic swells of pedal steel.

It’s practically unavoidable to get through a Sinai Vessel release without glimpsing a Death Cab for Cutie waypoint. The darker edge of the muscular How sounds like a long-lost Narrow Stairs highlight, while Best Witness carries a more glistening sheen. But, given the album’s length, its two best and subtlest tracks sneak up on you near the end. 

Treading a depth of maturity that, in the indie rock world, felt reserved for fellow North Carolinian Jenn Wasner’s Flock of Dimes project, Window Blue and Attack are absolute stunners. The stripped-down acoustic approach on Window Blue, which explores platonic friendships, exposes some of Cordes’ most effective lyrics and vocals, quietly speaking volumes: “Why should I be made to feel ashamed, to feel calm in your shadow, cool under your shade?” The album’s understated pinnacle, the nearly seven-minute Attack, starts with an ambient hum shot through with bird song and chirring crickets before resolute notes courtesy of Cordes’ piano sneak in. Littlejohn and Stevens join in later with a pummeling, which likely represents the demons that Cordes invites in for a tussle. The song’s opening line, “I can’t look straight at it,” evokes the similar imagery of Black Belt Eagle Scout’s Treeline in struggling with the tangible presence of deep-seated anxiety. 

Releasing his fourth album in over a dozen years puts Cordes in the not-so-prolific category. But the care and immediacy with which I Sing’s songs are presented bring a palpable sense that Cordes’ creations are built and tinkered with until they can’t be held back any longer. Though Sinai Vessel’s releases have felt fully formed from the outset, Cordes’ fellow musicians here truly bring out his best. Ardent fans or newcomers have plenty to explore here, and the album’s most treasured moments carry the reward of requiring many listens to unfold.