Squirrel Flower
Say a Prayer to the Gods of Getting Going
POLYVINYL
When Squirrel Flower broke out of relative obscurity with 2021’s stunning Planet (i)—Chicago-based songwriter Ella Williams’ second or third full-length, depending on whether you count her self-released debut—she did so because that record was truly special. It transcended time while also capturing the zeitgeist perfectly, Williams’ slowcore-inspired musings burning like the world she was singing about. It was urgent and unique, original and awe-inspiring, and set her on a well-deserved path to critical acclaim and a decent amount of commercial success. Its follow-up, 2023’s Tomorrow’s Fire, didn’t quite hit with as much emotional impact, but it was nevertheless a strong album that displayed Williams’ knack for songs full of an arresting, emotional gravitas.
While it’s certainly premature to start invoking the law of diminishing returns, Williams’ latest feels devoid of much of what’s made Squirrel Flower so special these past five years or so. The opening title track on Say a Prayer to the Gods of Getting Going features a catchy hook when she intones that title in its chorus, but it struggles to assert itself in any other way (its glowering feedback and angelic-yet-distorted vocals, however, feel like a decent homage to Ethel Cain). It strives for the heavens, but runs out of steam halfway there. The majority of these 11 songs suffer a similar fate: they feel like Xerox copies of Squirrel Flower songs, their power and gravitas muted this time around. “Cleveland,” for instance, plods along without much emotional heft, while “Reelin” struggles to turn the mundanity of day-to-day life into something wistful and romantic. Even the more punked-up chug of “Sick Tooth” rushes through itself without much feeling.
The plaintive acoustic lament of “Surfing USA”—not a cover of The Beach Boys’ iconic song—is centered around the devastating impact of heartbreak, but doesn’t emulate it whatsoever. In fact, Williams sounds oddly removed from the feelings she’s singing about, as if, ironically, her heart isn’t in it at all. Delicate closer “Weightless, Untethered” shows off the fragile beauty of her voice, but doesn’t really invoke any emotions, profoundly or otherwise. Out of context, this might be a solid record full of potential that could possibly hint at great things to come. With context, in the shadow of Planet (i) and Tomorrow’s Fire, it exists more as a diluted version of the great artist she’s already proved herself to be.
