Grief and heartache will always hold a burnt imprint in hearts despite the ever-growing shift into moving and remembering the great instead of the idea that they will no longer be here. Julie Byrne understands that here as she delivers this beautifully potent ambient folk album with The Greater Wings. Ambiance is a cornerstone of Byrne’s sound, a captivating highlight on her first two releases; that ambiance maneuvers its course through the luscious strings and whimsical wind sections, bringing these instances of emotional hope and acceptance to life. Though Byrne is singing her way with consistent undertones of grief and heartache, she finds ways to elevate these sensibilities by giving us these positive reflections of a life shared with her musical and romantic partner Eric Littman – he passed away suddenly in 2021 – buoying a foundational piece to guide you through her journey reveling in grief. The emotional poignancy runs deep with this one, so as you ponder whether to give it a spin or see if I agree with how you felt – I think it’s fantastic, rarely squandering a moment from the writing to the elevated aspects of its core folk aesthetic, save for one moment of all synths.
Opening with the beautifully ambient contemporary folk song “The Greater Wings,” you get immediately sent into understanding the directional purview of Julie Byrne, who’s propping up her grief, joyful memories, and personal growth the way she does. In the song, she lets it get known how much she misses Eric Littman, but how his vitality and musical virtuosity brought them closer together, delivering fantastic music with 2017’s Not Even Happiness, where his touch behind the synths added dimensions to Julie Byrne’s vocals, and that continues on The Greater Wings. Here, he’s working with synths and piano, bringing an underlying radiating presence that glows over Byrne and coats the essence of the vocal performance, carrying dimensions to it – he is just one part of the other session instrumentalists that connect it, it’s his creative synergy with Byrne that breathes onto them and makes it come full circle. However, Littman’s work glides through, like Byrne’s guitar playing, never feeling overt with its approach and allowing other aspects of the production to shine, like the subtleness of the Minilogue synthesizer on “Summer’s End,” where it’s letting the harp and guitar establish an identity. It’s something that’s heard throughout the album, like on the opening track or the piano’s coating on “Moonless.”
The session musicians further help establish the whimsical sounds that tread parameters of positive and negative emotions when Byrne is performing. Whether boasting the depth of the ambiance or helping bridge songs with synths and ones without, further helping the production connect these differentiating sounds with the same tones but unique arrangements. Much of the time, which has been a constant throughout much of Byrne’s career, is this approach towards minimalism in sound. It’s evident with the limited array of instruments used – save for string arrangements – but how it never delves deeper into cluttering the layers with tweaks on the instrument’s sound, specifically with many pitches. That isn’t a constant throughout, but when the production dips into adding more towards the construct, it never placates itself from being overly indulgent. On “Summer Glass,” the harp and different synthesizers add much to its enjoyment, like how it constructs this essence of windchimes blowing through a hot summer breeze. What’s different is how the synthesizers play to the aesthetic atmosphere, slightly like what Porter Robinson did on the song “Wind Tempos” off Nurture, except here, it’s modestly spread between these fantastic strings from the harp.
As the album progresses toward the second half, the arrangements become more embroidered, emboldening the strings and melancholy of its sounds while still feeling true to themselves with these fantastic performances. On “Flare,” we hear Julie Bryne’s emotional falsetto hitting these beautifully rough high notes like she’s holding back tears at a vulnerable moment. That’s one marvel you hear, others of which feel distinct to their respective songs, like the summery one-two of “Summer Glass” and “Summer’s End,” which follows a similar influence as the former but has more impact as the Minilogue gets used beautifully, except the winds are blowing softly, helping guide the mood of the contrasting summery performance. Byrne’s performances are low but very pronounced and boast the songwriting, constantly finding ways to establish her feelings through new stories and reflections. Unfortunately, that runs through for all but “Conversations Is A Flowstate,” which does sufficiently to further establish the kinship between the two, mainly through a romantic lens – yet, the production doesn’t deliver as strong, feeling too one note to me and leaving with a miss before hitting on the better composite “Hope’s Return,” which uses the synths similarly to the former.
Predominately written by Byrne, except for “Flare,” where she got collaborations from songwriter Em Fontaine; she writes about her grief after losing Eric Littman mid-production of The Greater Wings. I noted it in the opening paragraph, but it isn’t all low and sad, as she’s looking back on the positives and how his presence won’t ever leave her. Byrne writes through different paths that help us understand the lingering sadness, but the clarity of the next day where she can continue knowing everything they shared never got forgotten. This notion is heard beautifully in “Portrait Of A Clear Day” and “Moonless” – where the former speaks more about acceptance, the latter has us visiting this tender moment they shared in a hotel. It’s encompassing mood, like writing as if she wants to feel the sun on her skin on “Summer Glass” – a sense she got from listening to the arrangements of the synths. Acceptance runs deep within this album, and it ends with a triumphant mark where she sings about his essence staying with her and this understanding that their connected story speaks more prevalent than theirs, individually. It honestly left me teary-eyed.
As I conclude this review, I can honestly tell you: give this album a spin. It’s worth the time through its modest pacing and emotional virtuosity. Julie Byrne beautifully delivers how she feels and more, allowing the listener to get a hardened understanding of the time it took for Byrne to record and deliver this auspicious work; I won’t be stopping from replaying anytime soon, even if the mood isn’t fit for grief, it’s the hope that does many wonders. Take it from me, as it left me teary-eyed; the music is way more than worth it.
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