Austin Sound

Meryll’s sophomore album seeps with a vigorous nostalgia. “I’m in another time and place,” chimes Andrew Hernandez on opener “Brother the Hunter,” and the album certainly feels like Hernandez digging through the memory-laced scrapbooks of his past, a loose haze that wanders precariously between idyllic reflection and the impending realization of loss of innocence. But if it sounds quaint, it’s not. The effectiveness of the songs is bolstered by the swelling guitar sweeps and percussive crescendos that, on songs like “Rusty Fence,” inject a powerful, encompassing energy to the slowly building fuzz that lingers behind all the tracks. Happened plays like a hypnotic dream, where visions recalled and imagined furtively linger and fade behind details universally specific, making it feel as if Hernandez has a tapped a collective unconscious, personal yet evasive.

Hernandez’ vocals imbue the songs with their distinctive character, even as its high pitches unsettle and its rough hold on the notes ringingly falters. But it’s difficult to imagine these songs being held by any other voice, almost mirroring that awkward adolescent falsetto attempting to break. While “Lydia in the Cornfield” and “278 in Leftfield” sway in the glow of sentimental yearning, “Lightening Threatens” gently unwraps an ominous disillusion, recovering that moment of innocence struck down without losing it, erupting in the feedback burst and sudden vocal rise. It’s a masterful accomplishment to be able to evoke both sides of the gap between childhood frustration and wonder and an older since of loss and reflection, a balance that is usually better expressed in literature than music.

The album closes with a pair of songs that seem to finally break the spell of memory. “Hemlock Football” revels in a game of back yard football, acknowledging “this could be the last game we play,” with the laughing background and sudden, playful chorus of voices. But closer “New Carpet” cements the vault with a light atmospheric fade out culminating in the chant of “We moved on out, and I’m over there now.” The following ten minutes that release the album present an old home recording of a mother and two children, partially set to a sparse acoustic guitar soundtrack that feels like the Wonder Years - it extends a bit too long, to be sure, but is an appropriate artifact to match the album. Happened is a mini coming-of-age epic, never delving into dramatic regret or wistfulness, but simply encapsulating the familiar transition from a provincial, solipsistic world to a larger, more abstract one.

Websites:
www.meryll.net
Myspace