Traces of indie rock’s slacker yesteryear are worn like thrifted clothes by Hataałii on his new album, Singing Into Darkness, wherein he channels Pavement and Little Wings and even a bit of Mac DeMarco’s less willfully ironic tendencies. He follows a lineage of first thought, best thought, in which the magnetism of live performances masks the occasional missed note or drum groove that briefly rumbles out of time. In the wrong hands, it comes across as amateurish. But on Singing Into Darkness, Hataałii is utterly charming, disarmingly approachable, and delightful in his playfulness. These characteristics emphasize his sharply attuned sense of song while creating a push and pull between tightly wound compositions and idly delivered performances that animate the record.
Much like his aforementioned forebears in this tradition, Hataałii is at his best on the new album when he uses this particular aesthetic as an animating force rather than the reason for the show altogether. Take “Shouter’s Shame,” which plays with jangly pop guitars and a lilting bassline as Hataałii puts forward his best David Byrne impression, riffing in a stream-of-conscious style in an almost-operatic voice. “Ninety miles of Africa swinging unnoticed by the patriots at the movie theater snacking,” he sings. I’m not going to pretend I know what he’s talking about, but the way in which he uses syllables as musical cues and informants of language in their own right gives the song as much weight as the words he sings.
Hataałii was born in Window Rock, Arizona, the capital of Navajo Nation, and while he occasionally dives into the uniquely horrifying history Native Americans have with this country (see “For Liquor”), he’s equally enthralled by stories of outsiders and strangers. He cites the late Cormac McCarthy as a big influence, and songs like “Council Delegate’s Wife” showcase his genuinely curious obsession with the people at the fringes of our perspectives that make this life so fascinating.
On Singing Into Darkness, Hataałii performs as if he’s the flashlight illuminating the foreboding cave he peers into. Where others may see nothing but blackness, Hataałii sees an entire world undiscovered. His main methods of excavating these geological artifacts are through the tropes and styles of indie rock stars going all the way back to Television—but more often than not, Hataałii trusts his own voice enough to run wild with it. It’s in these moments that Singing Into Darkness jumps from an assured effort to an otherworldly pastiche thrilling in its uncompromising vision.
