Record Revue: Billy Woodward, Sleeping Lion, and Emily Scott Robinson

Welcome to Record Revue, an EP and album review series

The records that ring most true for me lately are steeped in tragedy. Or they’re cathartically soaked in dance floor glitter. There’s rarely an in-between. With the latest Record Revue, there appears to be common threads needling all three records together. There’s pain and redemption and themes teetering between love and loss, all cemented with some of the best songwriting of 2022. The styles may be different, but like most things in the human experience, it’s all connected.

Billy Woodward, The Boy from the Bay

Fire is cleansing, and Billy Woodward douses himself in gasoline and lights the match. The singer-songwriter’s debut LP, The Boy from the Bay consumes the past and leaves nothing but ash and renewal in its place. “Battle to the death, forces intertwined / In the belly of the beast, I must go,” heaves Woodward in “Pearly Gates” before suggesting he must “swallow all the grief.” The lamentation is equally as joyous and pleading, his voice cracked and flaky and bent to the sky. “When you’re selling off your soul, you sell it off for good” rings as an alarming thesis to the record. 11 songs zig-zag among themes about death, mourning, loss, and rebirth. “Love is lost, and so are we,” he sings, downcast, with “Watch It All Fall Down.” Woodward wanders paralyzed in a tired state, simply depicting raw human existence through his singular songwriting perspective. “Don’t try and shy away from your maker / She already knows the pain,” he observes on the lilting “Heavy Hours.” Then, in the somber glow of “Mourning Light,” the sting pricks his skin anew. “My mind is an old-time song with a worn-out melody that’s been spinning far too long,” he sighs with an exasperated breath. Described as a “therapy record,” The Boy from the Bay is nothing if not a soul-crusher of an album.

Sleeping Lion, Most Improved EP

“Every road has been taken and if you look closely at the patted dirt you’ll find the scattered bones of kings & beggars side by side,” write Nate Flaks and Noah Longworth McGuire in a free-style poem detailing their new EP’s through lines. Most Improved signals growth, baby sprouts poking through the soil and reaching for the sun. Rain clouds come into and out of frame as wayward souls ebbing and flowing with time. “Out of It” crashes through the emotional barricades with wrecking ball force, while guitar-etched “Casper” captures the haunted nature of heartbreak, the aftermath feeling like a ghost rattling in the darkness. Pain courses through the set, but within such bleak circumstances, there hides an understanding that only out of misery can rebirth take place. Bookending the project, “Winedrunk” is a lyrical and musical pop marvel, as dozens of vocal layers lift into the stratosphere. “I don’t ask for much / I just wanna get winedrunk with you,” the duo yearns to bask in the moment. Most Improved relies on moody soundscapes on which to build its emotional center, and its structure is both luminescent and sturdy as steel. Ruin and growth are two strands to human existence forged together, and you can’t have one without the other. Sleeping Lion know more than anybody.

Emily Scott Robinson, Built on Bones EP

Something wicked takes the shape of Emily Scott Robinson’s Built on Bones. True to her nature, Robinson pierces the skin and draws blood in her reimagining of the witches from Shakespeare’s Macbeth. She burns through the perception that the three witches were conjurers of the dark and the disastrous, reconstructing their characters as healing vessels destined to wash the world in warmth and power. “Everything here is built on bones,” she weaves with the haunting opener. The tortured refrain speaks to the greatest betrayal of mankind: colonization. Blood-soaked invasions have resulted in genocide and the squashing of the human spirit. Built on Bones may be explicitly about the three witches, but its lyrics appeal to many who’ve been made out as villains in their own story. “Double Double” bubbles as a spooky incantation, summoning up an inner fang-toothed courage. Bent inside the EP’s larger themes, Robinson chronicles the hills and valleys of the original play’s characters and story beats, including Lady Macbeth’s death with the twisted and shadowy “Sleep No More.” What’s more, the songs wouldn’t quite be as effective without the contributions from two of Americana’s finest singers. Alisa Amador and Violet Bell’s Lizzy Ross sculpt exquisite vocal performances, either in their tightly-wound harmony work or in lead roles, and that brings even more sting to each of Robinson’s lyrics. Six songs leave you pleading for more, yet it should be commended that such a compact concept never overstays its welcome. Built on Bones is among the year’s most imposing and captivating releases, full stop.

Follow B-Sides & Badlands on our socials: Twitter | Facebook | Instagram