Right Now, It’s Like This - Eliza Spear
It’s one of a reviewer’s most wonderful serendipities to be able to love the art and the artist at once. That’s why it’s such a pleasure to write about my dear friend Eliza Spear’s debut album, Right Now, It’s Like This, released independently on December 2, 2022. Put shortly, this album is enrapturing from start to finish. Eliza and I have been close friends for years now, and I’ve witnessed the production of this project right from the moment when she told me, “I think I’m going to record a full album.” So, believe me when I say: it’s all her in there. Not one detail was minced, not one corner was cut, not one story that took place over the years of the record’s writing process was left untapped of its deeper meaning. Equal parts anthem and introspection, Spear’s unique chamber-americana sound is both powerful and captivating in the way only a born storyteller like her can pull off.
Since her earliest work with 2017’s “Gold” and 2019’s “There Has to Be More,” Spear has meticulously fine-tuned her orientation towards genre. With this project, she’s found her sweet spot. The tenderness of the lyrics in songs like “Mother,” “Tripping,” and “Broken Heart And A Song” is complimented nicely by their folksy instrumentation, often using no more than an acoustic guitar and atmospheric keys to place as little between Spear and her listeners as possible. But if you came for electrifying choruses and upbeat crowd sing-alongs, she has you covered in that department, too. Spear gets plenty of opportunities to showcase her rich soprano voice and her hook-writing chops on more Americana-rock cuts like the album’s driving lead single, “Damn! I Forgot I Was Lonely!,” the waltzlike “Everything You Wish You Had,” and the unforgettable “Lucky Lucy.” This song is a standout track, featuring a riveting story alongside shanty crowd vocals that make it a peak in the album’s energy.
In terms of its production, this album has a vibrant, cinematic atmosphere that pulls the listener in and doesn’t let go until the final organ hum. “I wanted to avoid the potential default approach with this kind of project, which would have been acoustic guitar and piano lining each record. I also wanted to avoid intense treble sounds to give a certain depth and richness to the album,” producer Stephen Rivera said of his production philosophy. As opposed to the brassy, acoustic guitar-driven production that has become idiosyncratic of Americana music, Rivera offers a captivating alternative by creating spacious, concert-hall atmospheres for each song to live in – perfectly suited for Spear’s gravitational vocal performance. “The hope was that by the end of the album, you would intimately know Eliza’s voice,” he reflects. Spear and Rivera are close friends outside the studio, and this is evident in the way her voice, her songwriting, and his production collaborate throughout the project. He really gets her, he understands the point she’s trying to get across, and the entire album is that much more enthralling for it.
But even if Spear’s performance and Rivera’s production weren’t enough, the real treasure of this album, the thing that makes it so uniquely Eliza Spear, is its stunningly vulnerable thematic core. “I am my own mother; I hold who I once was,” sings Spear on the first track, starting a conversation with her younger self that continues for the rest of the album. Innocence and youth are major themes on this album, and Spear wields them delicately, telling a story of reckoning with, lamenting for, and ultimately forgiving her younger self. Reflecting on years spent with a cruel, omnipresent, all-too-familiar inner critic, Spear extends compassion, offering her hand from a perfect state of grace. It’s a deeply personal yet universally applicable journey that Spear has taken us on, and I’m not reaching too far when I say that you can hear the healing occur over its duration. From “Mother” to the softly sweet “Tripping” to the existential “Thought It’d Be Nice” to the emotionally devastating “Halfwit” (which I strongly advise against listening to while wearing eyeliner), Spear uses her gift for storytelling and artistic vulnerability to help us fill in the cracks of our fractured self-images.
This is an album for feeling at peace with sadness. For viewing loss as a teacher, a gift to your future self. It offers a moment of grounding, a temporary refuge in the middle of the swirling chaos of love, grief, yearning and learning that some call “being in your early twenties.” It’s an album for the stargazer, the meaning-seeker, and the wanderlust romantic. If you’re like Eliza, and you happen to be all three, you’ll never forget it.
For Fans Of: Taylor Swift, Brandi Carlile, Carole King, Kacey Musgraves
Listen To: Title Track, “Damn! I Forgot I Was Lonely!,” “Lucky Lucy,” & “Halfwit.”