“Homesick for a place that never existed.” That line from “I Don’t Say It, But I Feel It,” the second track on the latest album from the Staves, grabbed my imagination the moment I first heard it in late January. The song chugs along on two chords as if a commuter train, while its abstract yet intuitive lyrics channel those thoughts and emotions that often go unspoken. It’s akin to a Gemma Kauffman or Luana Asiata painting, metaphysical in form and practice. This morning, “homesick for a place that never existed” again rose from the digital bytes with the force of analog, conceptualizing the rose-tinted nature of nostalgic yearnings. Memory being memory, good times remain while bad times are often forgotten. “You got the magic, I think I missed it” goes the line just before, essentially conceptualizing time and tardiness.
Although I’m awaiting the arrival of All Now, and an accompanying autographed placard, the streaming age has made physical media moot. I beamed the 12 tracks from Apple Music to my shelf system via bluetooth this morning and somehow found myself lost in a cloud of memories. Long ago often seems like yesterday to me, and long ago I listened to music via my Realistic turntable while lying on the floor or bed in my childhood bedroom. Time and again, however, the angelic harmonies of the sisters Staveley-Taylor led me through that haze and to the present. Their songs are magic that shouldn’t be missed.
Most songs are not abstract offerings, lest my opening paragraph be misread. The opening “All Now,” for instance, spins social media bromides into sarcasm before asking to sit out the inanity. “Fundamental Memory” speaks to how loved ones walk with us forever and a day, which they do, while “Make a Decision” pushes past procrastination to promote action—and offers apt advice for life along the way: “Don’t carry something with you/If you don’t need it.” (“Something,” as I read it, translates to matters both physical and ephemeral.) “The Echo,” meanwhile, ponders how to move forward following a loss—romantic, from the sounds of it. “I’ll Never Leave You Alone,” on the other hand, could well be a stalker’s theme—or my cat’s, as he’s mewing at me as I write this. (Actually, the song is about another type of stalker—self-doubt.)
“After School” digs into the recesses of memory, and the Beatles’ sound circa Revolver, to celebrate sister Emily, who left the group a few years back to raise her children. “Great Wave,” for its part, surfs the metaphysical plane (“I’m not my body, I’m a side effect/of everything I’ve ever done”) in a way that’s somewhat reminiscent of the Dream Syndicate. “Recognise” sorts through the fear that comes with change—and, I suspect, also writer’s block. “So Gracefully” tours a childhood room before launching into the wonders of love.
The brief yet potent “The Important One” is a figurative brick to the head of an ex-partner who sought an accessory to his single life, not a partner. Stylistically, the album closes as it began with “You Held It All,” which features gorgeous harmonies and powerful advice to speak up: “What if we died tonight?/What would it have all been for?”
While the sisters Staveley-Taylor remain three, the Staves now consist of Jessica and Camilla (though Emily does lend her voice to one song). The essential qualities that make the group so loved remain, however, with glorious two-part harmonies overlaying tender and tough folk-rock songs. Produced by John Congleton, who’s worked with everyone from Angel Olson to the War on Drugs, the sound soars toward the stratosphere at times, but also swoops low. Max Hart is the project’s Captain Many Hands; he handles guitars, bass, piano, synths and pedal steel; Jessica plays guitar and piano, while Camilla strums the ukulele and guitar.
The Old Grey Cat 
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