There is something about a Tallest Man On Earth morning. His first release from his upcoming There’s No Leaving Now is a welcome return, like seeing an old friend after a particularly neglectful time to ground you back in place.
Kristian Matsson captures the idea of constant movement like a sprawling green field that’s growing and blowing; that no matter how indulgent you’re feeling with how singular your life is, you have to always remember that everything around you is still moving just the same. It’s this sort of big-picture wisdom that grounds much of his wandering songwriting (“When the leaving is hard but you go now/ And you feel what you drag across the floor“) that knows the bittersweet feeling of moving on when it’s time to go, especially when there are still a few reasons to stay.
I have trouble always staying on the lyrics, which are suggestive and intimate, without getting lost in the melody’s pockets that reflect and bounce. But his songs are not so much about hanging onto every word as just paying attention to mood before lines like “sometimes noise in just your mind” dart through. There’s a palpable sense of feeling to his songs, of smell and touch, and it’s the way they just sit there with you as long as you want that becomes a real comfort. His vocal wail with a bit of old-fashioned innocence and a whine that’s become distinct from his oft-compared Dylan influence contrasts in stride with his bright, flowing melodies that go on forever in either direction.
If you’re sensitive to weather, be careful with this one – it might give you spring fever. There’s No Leaving Now is out June 12, which is subjectively shaping up to be The Best Month Ever.