8. Sun Kil Moon - April

Mark Kozelek hasn't changed his style of reflective folk rock in two decades, yet each of his albums bears a refreshing new mood that slowly unwinds, inviting attentive listening by virtue of its austere beauty and moving narratives. While his debut under Sun Kil Moon, Ghosts of the Great Highway, suggested a steering towards lighter, more concise acoustic showpieces, April recalls more of his older material under Red House Painters - sprawling, intense, and certain to require many repeats, in no small part due to its length.
Famed for his guitar touch, Kozelek once again displays an astounding deftness of touch - the breadth of emotion he invokes from three chords slowly loping through ten minutes is amazing to behold. In particular, his blending of electric and acoustic tones is tastefully done, capturing a dynamic tension that never feels taut; and it's a marvel how the songs remain gentle under a layer of warm distortion. Lost Verses and The Light serve as effective introductions - twenty minutes of languid reflection further justifying the ceaseless Neil Young comparisons - which enrapture one with nuanced arrangements and tender melodies. That April sounds a fair bit more musically varied than Ghosts... is helped by the emphatic rhythm contributions of Anthony Koutsos and Geoff Stanfield, as well as guest turns by Bonnie Prince Billy aka Will Oldham, Death Cab frontman Ben Gibbard, and Eric Pollard of Retribution Gospel Choir.
But it is Kozelek's fragile, fractured voice that carries the record, and his plaintive musings are the quintessential force that grants his music their immense resonance, keeping it from sounding quaint or "slowcore". Nobody will disagree with me that Kozelek is amongst the most sincere of songwriters, and on April - a spring record which harkens back to autumn and winter - he's evidently intent on bearing his soul and getting lost in communicating his emotions. Even on Ghosts... it was clear that memories are what drive Kozelek, and the personal truths he lay bare on this record catch one between feeling emphatic and embarrassed for him. "Lost verses well up my eyes and ears" - an honest, heart-wrenching admission of all the memories Kozelek fears he may leave out. Regardless of whatever superlatives I can lob, it is better simply to incline one's ear and listen as this artist intimately recounts his lonesome trek.

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so goes the backing track of all the sighs we ever sighed