Songs of memories and shadows

Every time I go to a concert, I find myself asking a question: what makes a band really good? What is it about their technical skills as musicians, the quality of their songwriting, the way the words interact with the notes, and how the group fits together?

I've found an easy answer with Time Is The Playground, the latest album from Virginia-based rock outfit Carbon Leaf. I've been a fan of the band since around 2004, when a friend introduced me to their music by way of their then-latest record Indian Summer, and I found in it a collection of songs that really spoke to me: music about joy, love, wandering, and quite a bit more.

In the two decades since, the group released handful of albums that's seen them jump from genre to genre, from a sort of alt-pop rock (Love, Loss, Hope, Repeat 2006, Nothing Rhymes with Woman, 2009) to modern folk (Constellation Prize, 2013), Irish-infused rock (Echo Echo, 2001 / Ghost Dragon Attacks Castle, 2013), and Americana rock (How the West Was One, 2010 / Gathering Vol.1 & Vol. 2., 2017 & 2020). With this latest record, the band feels as though it's found a sweet spot between all of these various influences with an energetic and sweeping set of tracks that meditates on nostalgia, love, and the passing of time.

Something that I've always appreciated about Carbon Leaf is their songwriting skills. The band's lead singer, Barry Privett is responsible for most of their songwriting, and has a real talent for stitching together some wonderfully evocative lines: like from "One Prairie Outpost":

"Scene after scene passes by my life
The window's a wound and the road is a knife
The irony, ask me, 'where have you been?'
I don't know, I don't know
Because I don't know where to begin"

or from "Lake of Silver Bells":

"Life flickers by a hundred suns behind the trees
Melts us in a lullaby our eyelids are like movie screens
And we close our eyes and feel the warmth come into frame
We close our eyes until our dreams become one and the same
So much left for giving in, the year of living dangerously happy
On the lake of silver bells"

Over the course of their career, the band has created a wealth of music, but there are themes that they've returned to again and again: the passing of time, to romance and all of its shades, nostalgia, wanderlust, memories, friendship, each with complicated lyrics loaded with metaphors and wrapped up in rich imagery, as in "What About Everything?":

"Holiday quiet on these streets, except for some stubborn leaves
That didn't fall with the fall and now they clatter in vain
Holiday sky, midnight clear, wind is high, hard to steer
Old muffler rumbles like an old fighter plane
In search of some rest, in search of a break
From a life of tests where something's always at stake
Where something's always so far
What about my broken car?
What about my life so far?
What about my dream?
What about? What about everything?"

Paired with the efforts from the rest of the band – guitarists Carter Gravatt and Terry Clark, bassist Jon Markel, and drummer Jesse Humphrey, who bring an atmospheric and sweeping sound to those words – I find myself fascinated by how well these two parts come together: Privett's vocals ride up and down the scales, supported by his bandmates, and the results are equal parts memorable and moving.

The last decade has felt a little aimless for the band: albums and EPs like Constellation Prize, Ghost Dragon Attacks Castle, Gathering, and How the West Was One are solid albums with memorable tracks, but they never quite captured me as with Indian Summer or Love Loss Hope Repeat. That's why Time Is The Playground really struck me as something special: it feels like all of the band's strengths have come together into one sleek, entrancing package that I've had on repeat for weeks. It's an album that covers a range of familiar themes: the passage of time, memory, and of the various stages of one's relationships.

When I saw the band play at South Burlington's Higher Ground last weekend, they explained that the album played out something of a story from beginning to end. The album's title track feels like an introduction: a recognition of life's complexities, that as time passes us by, we're looking back at our lives with new perspectives and experiences.

"Building rise and shadows fall
Sundial time, clock's on the wall
You can't go back and start again
You just start again from wherever you end"

From there, we get what feels as though we're listening to a sort of autobiography of the band and its members. "Blackmask 1983," is a Gen-X anthem of nostalgia for childhood in the 1980s, (a track that feels a bit like a companion to their track "X-Ray" off of 2009's Nothing Rhymes with Woman,) while tracks like "You and Me," "Love for Sale," and "Me and Mick" deal with the ups and downs of love: the missed opportunities and pathways, loneliness, possibilities, and the hope and heartbreak it inspires.

"Me and Mick" stands out right in the middle of the album: a perfect song that's driven along, heartbeat-like with lyrics that grab your heart and squeeze.

"Counting up all the moments in still life
She's puts them together 1000 times in her mind's eye
Strung together in still frames they glow in the dark
Moving out of the picture and into the part
Straight into the part"

And:

Out of the shadows and into the sun
Can we make believe this day is the only one
Out of the shadows straight into the dream
Living a sequel we will never see
Steady as she goes when the morning comes
Nothing can wreck us but love"

The band provided some clues into the work that went into this album on its website: Privett dusted off old demos and shut himself away for months to finish their stories, while also honing recent compositions," gathering "the best of songs written, in fits and starts, over 15 years."

The rest of the album plays out variations on those themes of memories and uncertainty: "City by the Sea" is a gentle, swaying melody about two lives coming together and the uncertainty that they'll face moving forward, "Call Ahead" delves into memories and reminders, "Catching Windmills" is an optimistic tune about joy and renewal, while others like "Monday Night in Germantown" are nostalgia-tinged descriptions of playing before crowds in out-of-the-way bars.

If nostalgia is looking back fondly at the past, it's an acknowledgement that times have changed and the album wraps up with a couple of tracks that lean into those memories. "California Gold" is a wistful, quiet, and lonely track that feels like it's a story about the miles one travels in life: looking back on the past, but moving along as we move forward.

And all we have is time
Lay it all down the line
Find the missing pieces as we go
We're taking the slowest road for now
Let the windows paint the scene
Living the fever dream
California gold

The album closes out with "Neon Signs," a bold and rich track that also looks back on the past: not only missed opportunities or dreams, but which ultimately concludes that we shouldn't be bound to these memories: "Just muscle cars rusting in the woods."

Listening through all of the band's music in the last couple of weeks, this new album feels as though it's a counterpoint and companion to 2004's Indian Summer. Where that 20 year album feels like it's about standing on the precipice of early adulthood, and all the angst, potential, and excitement life ahead of you brings, Time is The Playground looks back and reflects on those intervening years.

It's had me thinking about what's transpired in my own life over that time: the highs and lows of falling in and out of love, of those branching pathways where you see how your decisions directed you in one way or the other, and how quickly that time has passed. More than any other body of music, Carbon Leaf's songs are the ones that speak to me the most, bringing new revelations in times of need, new perspectives when I look back, or just simply reminders of the complexities and joys of life.

I'm a different person in 2024 than I was in 2004, and I'm sure I'll be looking back from 2044 (at 59 😱!) with the same bemusement. As I found 20 years ago, Carbon Leaf's music is the perfect soundtrack for the journey and if there's any meaning to draw out of Time is The Playground, it's to enjoy the moment, our surroundings and companions. Thinking back on the past is a fun exercise, but it's easy to get lost in the thorny footpaths of our pasts, and dwelling on the what-might-have-beens that pass us by can get us stuck in an endless loop of regret for the life we miss as it passes us by.

I've been realizing that I've needed that reminder lately, and listening to this album has been both cathartic and enlightening. While watching the band the other day, I realized what makes this band so good: over the last three decades of singing and touring, their technical skills as musicians and a band (watching and listening to Carter Gravatt on guitar is a thing to behold) has sharpened to a point, while their songwriting has only deepened and enrichened. It's a delight to behold: to see a band continually hone their craft and art and produce an album as enjoyable and thoughtful as this one.