Discussing loss feels like an ill-fated endeavor. What are we supposed to say in the presence of others? In the presence of ourselves? What helpful takeaways can we salvage from this bizarre task? If anything, the attempt reminds us of how detached we are from experiencing anything authentically, without the addition of self-doubt, a performative veneer, or a cloudy sense of purpose. Accepting this dilemma, how can we still address the missing pieces in our life? Perhaps in the case of Color for Colors’ Heartache, Ollie begins by exploring the pieces that remain intact: creativity & reverence, monotony & disconnect.
Both as a belated gift and a stand-alone piece of art, Heartache has a magical and dynamic spirit. But this spirit didn’t emerge from some pseudo-religious awakening, or a light bulb “aha” moment. Instead, it coalesced from the unreal amount of patience, care, and attention that Ollie has devoted to his vision. His slow-burn approach of endless experimentation and careful scrutiny has crystalized into something distinctly new. It formed the perfect vessel to explore the intersection of memory and loss, opacity and translucency.
Throughout the record, fragments of lyrics and melodies disappear and return. Each time they are heard in a new context, much like how memories resurface disparately in our lives. These shards of sound are varied, ranging from unapologetically clean flute lines, to ominous cacophonies of scrambled sound. The album is both linear and cyclical, and is speckled with delicate surprises that dissolve the distinction between beginnings and ends.
The sonic character of Heartache rides the line between synthetic and natural, such as the uncanny pianos and toms in “Be Something”, or the ethereal descending horns in “Rainbow l”. This leaves the listener in a constant state of uncertainty as to what is earthly and what is beyond reality. Every part and instrument has been considered, both alone and within the surrounding arrangement. The result is a flood of moments where subtle background textures take center stage (if we let them). This can be heard on “Find a New Hero” as the piano triplets glide along with warmth and melancholy, helping us feel the “dancer in the shadow” momentarily.
The lyrics are economical, rich, and occasionally crushing to endure: “We were as close as any, but then again how close could any get? My love for you is plenty, so much that I never got to spend.” But what’s stunning is how often the context of these lyrics move them away from just recounting a somber tale, and instead allow the listener to apply their own associations with loss into the experience. We can shift between roles, and sit from any vantage point we choose: the sympathetic witness, the voyeur, the protagonist, or the detached other. When a moment in the journey needs no further embellishment, Ollie justifiably lets it breathe and moves on, whether it be the labeling of an “accident,” or posing the unanswerable question of “When are you gonna be out here, Ollie?” Amidst these narrative beats, Ollie complicates what it means to grieve by juxtaposing joyous grooves and danceable moments. These unexpected foot-tapping, shoulder-shaking passages let us celebrate and accept the murky process of mourning & yearning alike.
Heartache doesn't try to talk about loss, nor does it provide answers. It doesn’t clearly delineate the reflections on Ollie’s life from those of hers. It does, however, take us somewhere authentic. We move through it, and sense its absence when it is gone. It rewards us for listening with care, and lets us participate in something that has become increasingly difficult to find: a humble scrap of crude beauty.
Matt Milkowski