Aviary Ghost

Aviary Ghost won the first battle in forming their band; they picked a name that is both a summation and reflection of their musical intent and it gives the listener a good indication of what type of sound they can expect. But expectations are tricky things and shouldn’t always be relied on for fulfillment. No sooner does one raise their expectations than the harsh realm of disappointment rears its head to remind you not to get too worked up. But sometimes the opposite also happens, with the pendulum swinging in your favor and expectations are exceeded. For Aviary Ghost, the answer is the latter.

I anticipated atmosphere and a quiet lulling sound from Memory is a Hallway, and I merely anticipated an album with decent songs suited for wintry nights and darker evenings. Given that the album was recorded “during a particularly long Michigan winter,” according to the press release, mood should be a given. Winter is one of the best times to create songs of inflection and chill, dreams and darkness, light and warmth. (And it was wholly the Michigan landscape that helped create one of my most cherished albums, Sufjan Stevens’ ode to his home state.) But what one might be unprepared for is the genuinely day-dreamy acoustic pop element that runs underneath Aviary Ghost’s debut, an element that lifts this band above the typical atmospheric fray and into a realm of its own design.

With only two members in the band, Charlie Crimando and Stephen Kemsley, the sounds are larger than they should be and packed with the labors of love. I can imagine these two gentlemen struggling over minute details, crafting each element with a dedication and care usually reserved for gourmet meals. “Windowlight,” while it’s not one of my favorite tracks on the album, utilizes a mass of instruments for the song’s complete picture: ragtime piano, mandolin, handclaps, and syncopated drumming. That’s more than most bands would consider for a whole album, let alone one song. And all of the songs have their own sound and feel to them, whether it’s the Morrisey-esque vocals on “The Brain is a House” or the Simon and Garfunkel acoustic strum of “The Hollow” and “Somewhere Else,” the songs are their own living beings. And they all have a story that gently unfolds without a sense of hurriedness.

The band’s lyrics and Crimando’s vocals are treasures of innocence and love, taking me back to a simpler time of cobblestones and main streets, before the age of global warming and cynicism. “When I was a younger man/ about a day ago/ I don’t think it even shows,” he croons on the opening line of “Anything but the Time” and instantly sweet nostalgia for a time you might not even remember sets in. “And don’t forget/ you are alive/ your memory/ is every single thing that you will need,” is the chorus of “The Brain is a House” and it’s a sickly sweet sentiment that comes off truthful and without a hint of irony. (Trust me, I’ve combed this album for irony and I can’t find a trace of it.)

Sometimes the songs get away from the band and march forward without any instance of concluding in a well-timed manner. And the album lacks cohesiveness in spots, probably due to the individual songs being labored over more than the album as an entity. But Aviary Ghost has created an excellent ode to memory and simple pleasures. They want to remind us that joy never goes out of style—hell, it was never in style. And it’s okay to celebrate tiny moments and to spend time thinking about the past. It’s not a waste to reminisce, it’s a vital part of existing and it keeps us from charging ahead too fast into the future. And if you need some help getting started, this is the album to listen to.

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