At the core of Icarus Phoenix, the new LP by indie folk troubadour Drew Danburry, is a quintessential Americana quality that feels both classic and contemporary at-once.
From the sauntering stride and acoustic backbone of introductory track “Zero One, for Will Sartain,” to the clopping horse trots that inform the rhythm of the conclusory “Capacity for Delight, for Ikumi,” a vintage Western warmth permeates the record’s runtime, yet the effort continuously feels fresh, never stilted
This interceding energy is in large part due to Danburry’s diverse instrumentation, an effort for which he brought in nearly a dozen players for a marathon three day recording session at June Audio in Provo, Utah.
The end result of this far-flung collaboration endows many of the tracks with a delightful eclecticism; staccato strings play second to forlorn harmonica on “A song for Josh, Wes, August, Dashe, Brian, Phylicia & Sean forever,” playful flute follows behind melody on “Iron Man and his demons, for Striker,” and natural field recordings endow “How Rabbit changed my life” with a shimmering, otherworldly energy.
This isn’t to say that Icarus lacks lyrical depth — far from it. Danburry’s vocals and words carry the emotive homespun qualities present in the work of Stuart Murdoch and Phil Elverum, very clearly rooted in personal subject matter yet occasionally wrapped up in mystic metaphor.
Each of the LP’s twelve tracks are dedicated to at least one individual (some of whom are featured players on the release), adding a reassuring, comforting air to the album; at times this naming convention makes the listener feel like the voyeur of close friendships , able to bask in an amicable golden glow from afar.
In a time where the outside world feels alien, and our relationships are redefined in terms unfamiliar, that glow inherent to Icarus Phoenix feels all the more necessary.
It’s a record that feels like comfort food, both sonically and lyrically, a welcome reprieve from the sterile solitude of contemporary living that’s presented in a manner that feels familiar and accommodating.
And while those cordial gatherings with friends and family may still be in the distant future, Icarus serves as a testament to the staying power of those relationships, well into the future
