Hozier - Wasteland, Baby!

Hozier - Wasteland, Baby!

No one was more surprised by the rise of Andrew Hozier-Byrne than the man himself. A college drop-out living with his parents, the Co. Wicklow native was cutting his teeth under Jazz maestro Zaska in Dublin when he broke up with his then-girlfriend. Frustrated and angry, he poured his emotion into his songwriting and independently released his first track on the 13th of September, 2013.

That was the first time the public heard ‘Take Me To Church’ and the rest is very much history.

It’s been five years since the release of his eponymous debut. Hozier's mixture of bog gothic imagery and gospel inspired folk rock was enough to garner him world acclaim. Award nominations fell from the sky. He was covered by Ed Sheeran. A subsequent tour took him across the globe. And the first thing he did after? Hide from everyone in a country bungalow. Followers of his work weren’t surprised, as Hozier had never hidden his discomfort of fame - “I hold that shit at a distance” - instead deriving pleasure from his revels in the imperfection of man and woman. He continues this ethos with his first album in half a decade, ‘Wasteland, Baby!’ Brimming with catchy, groovy hooks and an oddly uplifting spirit in the face of impending doom, it does not quite measure up to the classic status of its predecessor, but still maintains the high level of composition fans expect from the songwriter.

Upon returning to Ireland Hozier shut himself away from the world. As he slowly joined the corporeal plane, he would lose himself in the news and current affairs on Twitter. A growing sense of chaos and dystopia greeted him each day, and informed much of the spirit of Wasteland… The album was born of a search for connection with the world, a desire to plug back into humanity, a need to make sense of the chaos and mistrust. Loathe as he is to proclaim himself a protest musician, Hozier resistance to the powers that be form much of the musical backbone of his second album. At a time where division is rife and often well compensated, he takes the atlas-like task of injecting some humour, some romance back into the human condition. Armed only with a healthy dose of celestial gospel vocals, brooding benevolence and folk-infused rock, Hozier performs better than most.

My thoughts on lead single ‘Nina Cried Power’ can be found here, but in the context of the full album, a further investigation is warranted. Byrne is careful not to cast himself in the same light as those he pays tribute to in the opening track (Nina Simone, Booker T Jones, Billie Holiday, Mavis Staples to name a few), instead opting to celebrate their achievements and sacrifices. The soaring, soulful vocals and their connection to protest and social change in America is a potent device when considering the current climate. Fuelled by a powerful faith, a chorus of organs and full-bodied backing vocals, its relentless spirit is a high point on the album, and sets the scene for what is to follow.

Both love and death are given equal standing in Wasteland..., facing off like gunslingers at high noon. Defiant of each other but mutually respectful. Indeed, Hozier has often gone at length to show that good must often come with bad to give it significance and that neither should be feared nor revered. This theory continues in the arteries and veins of Wasteland… which looks to find the best in pain and pleasure. The liquid RnB lust of ‘Movement’ typifies the bodily chemistry in a slow dance with sheer gothic vocals and impassioned harmonies. The ghostly embers of ‘Wasteland, Baby!’, all ethereal echoes and rugged folk gospel, fall in line with the albums predilection for combining the grotesque and gratifying. Both are intrinsically linked by Hozier's search for humanity, laughter and tenderness. In Movement, Hozier laments his lack of dancing acumen, taking pleasure in being held and moved by his partner instead, while the album-name track is a profession of love between a couple as the world burns around them. Both the apocalypse and Byrne’s two left feet are deemed as equal, in the same way in which spiritual and physical affection are elevated by their presence. In the world of Hozier, both situations matter and both are worthy of respect.

More than anything, Wasteland Baby! is a celebration of small moments. The devil is in the details, but so it would seem is the angel. Take the galaxy treading alt-funk of ‘No Plan’, which barks an absurdist laugh at the gloom, armed with fuzzy, distorted licks and a hip-hop bass line. A ballad for living in the moment, an ode to relishing in the joy of realising you’re alive and free, it’s a microcosm for the album as a whole. Praising the mere achievement of making it thus far, it looks out over the tumultuous landscape of the world and says "Fuck it, at least we still have biscuits." As mentioned, Wasteland... rewards insurgency, a stance epitomised by No Plan. To exist at all can be seen as an act of resistance, and to love in the face of inevitable death is considered by some to be the biggest act of rebellion available. Hozier is inclined to agree.

Inspired heavily by gospel and soul, ‘Wasteland, Baby’ is a fantastic second effort that barely strays over the line into overindulgence. A fusion of blues, rock, folk, jazz, pop and others, Hozier’s, unfortunately, appears to run out of steam towards the end of the album (The removal of 'Be,' 'Dinner & Diatribes,' and 'Sunlight' would not be met with much disagreement). Yet the embodiment of emotion, often through physical, tangible symbols and relatable pains allows listeners to grapple with the world at the same level as each other. Wasteland… levels the playing field, opens the flood gates and encourages you to make peace, love, whatever you liked. Just share it with one another. and everyone is fair game. Failing to reach the heights of his debut, Byrne’s follow up is still a monolith of modern love and despair. Hopefully, we don’t have to wait five years for the next treatise.