“Good Morning Heartache,” the opening track on Christian Sands’s latest album, Embracing Dawn, begins with a warm, gently unfolding gesture from the piano, an easing into consciousness. But then there’s an insistent ping from somewhere else. Something’s off, something’s wrong. A beat settles in, heavy and lethargic, with strings adding extra weight. It’s an exploration of a state of mind, in which maybe everything will be okay in time — but it’s not okay now.
Embracing Dawn is “a cinematic narration of the stages of grief,” according to accompanying notes. It’s a “breakup record” that Sands wrote while “experiencing the hurt that only a sudden absence of love can deliver.” He crafted the album as “a group therapy session, a guide to healing, and an understanding that Sands’s deeply personal angst could apply to any person who has lost a partner, a job, a loved one, an opportunity.”
The immediacy of the emotions, and the ability to comprehend them while feeling them so completely, is on full display in the compositions across the album. In some ways it’s not so much a narration as a cry of grief. “Divergent Journeys” begins with a tumultuous theme before tumbling forward into a searching, questioning set of musical ideas, full of shifting tempos, textures, and timbres. Mirroring the emotional swings of uncertain times, the music reaches an accepting stasis that is beautiful in the moment but never lasts long. “Ain’t That the Same” rockets along as an urgent waltz rooted in the blues. The melody in “Thought Bubbles I (Can We Talk?)” begins with an air of contrition that soon begins to doubt itself, a complex combination of emotions that the musicians unpack with growing energy as the tune progresses. The shimmering “Serenade of an Angel” is the sound of a very bittersweet memory, of a great time that can’t be had again. “MMC” bursts with frenetic energy that captures both the determination to move on and some of the busy energy one might use to distract oneself from the problems at hand. “Thought Bubbles II (Do Not Disturb)” struts on a straightforward, keep-your-head-down groove. “Braises de Requiem I (The Embers Requiem, Mov. I)” aches with the sadness of finally letting something painful go, while the final song, “Embracing Dawn,” thrums with a bruised acceptance.
