The saying goes that you can’t go home again, but what Elijah Wolf suggests on his new album is that maybe you shouldn’t try to. Announced at the beginning of the week and made available today via his own Mtn Laurel Recording Co. label, Track Star’s 10 songs reflect on the toughest aspects of growing up in a small town, whether it be the loneliness of success as a prodigious high school athlete or the feelings of hopelessness and entrapment that come with seeing your future in the adults around you who never managed to break out of their hometown.
Given the album’s reflective tone, it makes sense that several of these songs were scaled down in the studio after being written as anthemic rock ballads, while others were even road-tested in mid-sized venues on Wolf’s recent tour with Julian Lage before being reconsidered to match that understated manner. In their final versions, each song feels like it was written and recorded with a tightly knit group of confidants (namely Told Slant’s Felix Walworth and h. pruz’s Hannah Pruzinsky) in the songwriter’s childhood bedroom, in the eye of the quiet storm that rages through these unsuspecting indie-folk compositions.
Stream Track Star below, and read on for Wolf’s guided tour of each song on the record. To help get you in the nostalgic headspace, you can also check out the state-fair-set video he made for the album’s lead single “Texaco Lights” here.
1. “Track Star”
The demo was anthemic and big, and then, when we got in the studio, it became a lonely song. We stripped it all down. I realized that instead of being this huge, highly arranged thing, it’s supposed to embody what it feels like to be a track star in a small town, winning but feeling isolated. We wanted that to come through in the instrumentation.
2. “Texaco Lights”
I opened up my laptop to find a session I had recorded, and I opened up this old audio file by accident. We clicked into it at random to see what it was, kind of as a joke, until we realized there actually might be something to it. We stripped out the drums, Felix recorded their drum part, and we worked together on a new melody and lyrics to continue the story of smalltown life.
3. “You, Forever”
I wrote this song solo acoustic. Hannah [h.pruz] sang on it, and Felix played this cool ending that layered two drum takes. We layered my voice with synthesizers. It reminds me of times growing up when my friends and I felt hopeless and trapped.
4. “Norms”
I played this on an electric guitar that’s not plugged in so it would sound like a resonator. I had my friend Frank come and play upright bass on it. The ending is supposed to feel like isolation taking over your mind, your inner monologue overwhelming your reality.
5. “Back Down”
This is the record’s moment of hope or relief, a feeling of possibility and resilience, even in disappointment. Hannah added harmonies to make it feel more full and celebratory, and Felix and I sang together live and layered our vocals in a nod to The Band.
6. “Heaven”
This was the last song I wrote for the record. It’s about wanting to find peace and heaven in your life. I layered a bunch of guitars for a flowing feeling. I wanted to keep momentum and urgency in the guitar work while also keeping it simple.
7. “Light On”
The original was very different, more of a rock song. We took my original acoustic guitar part, ran it through a tape machine and slowed it down, and re-recorded everything on top of the original guitar line. We wanted a song that brings you into a cold winter’s day where all the trees are dead. Felix did a cool reversed drum part with a tape machine at the end that pans from headphone to headphone.
8. “Start Driving”
This song is so simple. It’s super repetitive. It’s meant to feel like staring at the road, always trying to get where you’re going. Hannah had the idea of speaking the lyrics in a whisper, the effect of what it feels like to get absorbed in your thoughts while driving around Upstate.
9. “Concrete”
These last two songs came at a time when I got to tour with Julian Lage. I got to play these songs to theaters every night and explore them myself. I feel like my relationship with them changed. But these songs mean a lot to me. We tried “Concrete” as a full band before deciding on a version closer to how I played it alone onstage. It’s supposed to take you to the present day. You’ve grown up and left home, and you’re bringing your new partner back to see your hometown, the mixed emotions in sharing it with them, the protectiveness and pride. But it’s also a love song, in a way.
10. “Time Passes By”
The Hudson Valley Mall is an empty shell and a ghost town now, but you can still walk through it. I spent so much of my childhood there. This song is about that, but also about self-doubt, asking yourself, “Am I missing out on opportunity?”
