Doors 7:00pm
Forces from the sidelines/pushing for a race against time/tempting us to deplete/only to face a certain defeat,” sings José González in “A Perfect Storm”, the opening track of his fifth album. Safe to say, he’s deeply concerned about the future. Not his own, necessarily, but that of humankind. Specifically, he sees the galloping advancement of AI as the greatest threat we face as a species, which is why it’s a salient theme of Against The Dying Of The Light. But as that title suggests, González is no doomsayer resigned to fate. Not only is he a man of science and reason – well on his way to reach a PhD in biochemistry when his music career took off – who also recognises the enormous benefits of AI if used responsibly. He’s also a humanist with hope and compassion in his heart, who via his music advocates for action to re-examine our aeons-old thought patterns and modify the behaviours that impede our growth.
This messaging isn’t a first for the Swedish artist internationally acclaimed for his intimate, folk-rooted compositions, classically-inclined fingerpicking and softly expressive vocals. 2021’s Local Valley, for example, espoused effective altruism, ecomodernism and secular humanism: “Tell me why it may be/Tell me which way you are going/Tell me where we are from,” was his existential question in the opener, while in “Head On” González urged listeners to consciously engage, pronto. But five years on, the dramatic darkening of shadows across the global landscape demands blunter truth telling, carried by a more forceful, often frustrated and even angry expression.
With its focus on technological fears, alongside wider issues like the need to identify unhelpful thinking and refuse non-inclusive ideologies, Against The Dying Of The Light was born out of deep conviction as much as artistic choices. As its maker explains: “For 20 years I’ve been doing music and for most of that time I’ve been trying to do stuff that doesn’t rub the right way. There needs to be some friction and I feel like this album is where it’s become more obvious. I used to write thinking of music that is timeless, but I allowed myself to be more inspired by current events, on a decade scale. My ambition was to have friction”. The record’s sleeve art reflects what lies within. It’s midnight blue, with a square outlined in white and inside that square, delicate white patterning like that of a bandana – an image both subtle and stark, its aesthetic darkness chiming with González’s new sonic intensity.
At the album’s conceptual heart sit two songs. The first is the title track, in which a lilting melody and warm, resonant strumming press home the need to keep striving for enlightenment against forces that deny human flourishing, both personally and collectively. The second is the aforementioned “A Perfect Storm”, which underlines its warning against tech optimism’s “race to lose control” with insistent rhythmic fingerpicking that builds to a thrillingly distorted peak, in contrast to González’s sweet vocal overdubs. He jokingly describes it as a “power-folk” song. Both it and “Losing Game”, which amplifies his concerns about AI development without guardrails, recall the hypnotic drone of Sahelian desert blues. So too does the euphemistically titled “Sheet”, a reference to our universally unhelpful practice of pretending to know “sheet” when we don’t. All are reminders that González’s pool of influences is far deeper than the Western folk-pop on which he cut his teeth and that more than 20 years into his career, his singular artistry is still evolving.
Musical diversity rules across Against The Dying Of The Light. Connections to González’s earliest acoustic-guitar guides, The Beatles and Paul Simon, remain, the latter especially in “Pajarito”, a sweet and guileless, folk-pop song with whistling, written for his four-year-old son. Silvio Rodríguez also endures as a touchstone, alongside João Gilberto and Milton Nascimento, but González’s palette has broadened. For the exquisitely forlorn “Ay Querida”, which addresses those who’ve been dealt an unimaginably dire hand in life, he turns to Spanish flamenco singer Camarón de la Isla. Compelling wildcard “Gymnasten” (“The Gymnast”), which puts moral relativism under the microscope via an extended sports-style commentary in Swedish, sees him taking sprechgesang inspiration from James Yorkston’s “Guy Fawkes’ Signature”, as well as Bill Callahan and The Van Pelt, while also borrowing the harmonies of Crosby, Stills & Nash. The choral element is markedly stronger across the new record, nodding to Argentina’s Christmas liturgy, Misa Criolla, and the Swedish mid-winter celebration of Saint Lucia, with its communal singing in candlelit processions. It’s a reflection of his dual identity but also a reconnection to his younger self.
Though he played in a hardcore band as a teen – “I had my skateboard and my screaming” – González also sang in a choir. Dragged along by one of his classmates, initially he wasn’t sure but soon discovered that “it was really fun. Not cool at all, but really fun. I learned the different scales and also a bit of vocal technique. It speaks to something deeply human – to stand together as 20 people, just singing – and now that I’m older I feel it’s time to embrace the universal aspects”. González, who’s an atheist, nowadays enjoys watching his partner singing and performing with a local “indie/church choir”. To mirror these multiplied voices on record, he’s multi-tracked his (favoured nylon-string) guitar, most strikingly on “For Every Dusk”. He’s also ditched the drum machine that featured on Local Valley in favour of tapping his foot for rhythmic propulsion, and employs echo effects and subtle electronics.
As is characteristic, González’s lyrics for Against The Dying Of The Light are underpinned by extensive philosophical, ethical and geo-political readings on his chosen themes. Though some lyrics are coded – as with the metaphorical “U / Rawls Slöja” (“Rawls’ Veil”, referring to the philosopher’s “veil of ignorance” theory) and “Gymnasten” – many are explicit. Hectoring has never been González’s way but there’s an impassioned rallying cry, plus another sly euphemism, in the title track. “Disconnect from every algorithm,” he urges. “Every perverse incentive that drags you down/Let’s rebel against the replicators/Against the dying of the light/Kill the codes that feed the hate/Keep the codes that make you thrive/ Celebrate the fun king fact that we’re alive”. It’s frustration with tech barons’ high-stakes gambling on the safety of AI that fuels “Losing Game”, too. Here González muses, “Where did we go wrong?/Where did we take the wrong turn?/Thought we were the ones in control/No, not even close”.
Once again he’s the master of the Trojan-horse lyric, smuggling dark and difficult themes into the spotlight via soft-power rhythms, irresistible melodies and understatedly emotional vocals. However, there are several points on the album where the darkness and frustration dissipate and light and hopefulness flood in. With its sweet, midpaced swing and sun-drenched, ’70s west-coast strumming, “You & We” is, as the title suggests, a call for concord, and inclusivity in all ideologies. “Believe me when I say that I wish you well,” sings González. “With all of my heart I wish you well.” Acceptance and hope also define the Neil Young-ish “Joy”, the album’s closer. Here, guitar, voice and handclaps grow steadily louder in celebration of all that makes us human. As González so brilliantly puts it, even as we cognify everything we’re still, uniquely, “primates who can’t help but sing”. This record is a potent rallying point for the universal choir.
