Ardentjohn - Malin Head (2019)

Clearly, Ardentjohn are no strangers to melancholy. Why else would they name their latest disc Malin Head after Ireland’s northernmost point where heartbreaking farewells were common as the hopeful set off for a promised new world while acknowledging they were leaving their homeland, perhaps never to return again.

On this, their fourth disc, Ardentjohn are now a five-piece with Keiron Mason playing guitar and sharing the vocals with bassist Alan Shields. Mark Abbott plays lead guitar, while Seth Marron handles the percussion, and Linda Tym plays cello and contributes vocals as well. Together they have created a disc that mines the despondency often mixed with joy that immigrants felt.

The path Ardentjohn pursues hints at the sadness of life, while still holding on to hope. The opening track, Magic Everywhere builds out slowly from slide guitar notes until the piano and drums come in, offering just enough encouragement that there really is magic in the strangest of places.

Treading the fine line between believing in a better future and holding tightly to dreams of what was, the song Malin Head opens up to the aching emotion. “They say you left for a dream and me that I stayed for love. I adjust to the pain inside, but now I’m just numb to it all.” Despite the sadness, the music offers something more affirmative, appearances can be deceiving.

When The Faces Change ends with the sombre thought, “if you think like me you’ll do your best to hide away from the truth.” Sometimes the truth doesn’t set you free, it binds you to moments you’d rather forget. Daydreaming offers hints of Elbow vocally with layer after layer taking the song down one pathway before everything drops out to just guitar and piano, building back up again to become a fascinating reverie.

Poignantly When You Go actually asks the question, “Why won’t you call on me when you go?” The piano outro tugs at the heart instrumentally in a similar fashion to the lyrics, illustrating just how effective restraint can be in service of the song. The closing gambit, The Long Goodbye, is just that – almost seven minutes of aching longing. There is no need for lyrics the music captures the mood without ever slipping over to the maudlin.

Malin Head is a tribute to the sense of longing many of Irish descent must have felt leaving everything behind. Accordingly, there is hope amidst the heartbreak in equal measure. Ardentjohn mine both seams, creating a statement of yearning that tugs at listeners long after the album has ended.