Each Measure Review: Eleri Ward
FEATURE
It always feels like a cop-out to say that an album defies genre or description, but in the case of Eleri Ward’s debut masterpiece Internal Rituals, it’s difficult to find the words to describe the breathtaking sound she achieves. Undeniably, her influences include shades of jazz, classical, folk, pop, and electronic music, but Internal Rituals all of those and somehow more. It feels less like a simple collection of songs and more like an experience – a journey through the exquisite wonderland of Ward’s soul.
The NYC-based singer-songwriter brings a life-long passion for music and performance as well as an education from both the Chicago Academy for the Arts and the Boston Conservatory. It might have been her education that helped her fully realize her stunning soprano voice and gift for crafting compelling hooks, but she also offers some assets that can’t be taught, like an exceptionally well-developed perspective on the human conditions and a talent for melodic excellence.
Ward has the kind of voice that is capable of being beautiful without needing to say anything. Yet throughout Internal Rituals, she consistently chooses to pursue meaning. She describes herself as “devoted and dedicated to inspiring as many people as I can to be their most authentic selves, to look inward and find love, and to find their unstoppable drive from within by leading by example and infusing this mission statement into my music, my performances, and my presence.” If her intentions aren’t clear from that sentiment, they will be once you’ve heard the album. To sum up the work in as few words as possible, it’s an exploration of the self. As an album that deals more with the cerebral and the spiritual than with the material, Internal Rituals asks what it means to become ourselves in a world that often works against us.
Lyrically, Ward’s reflections and introspections are rendered in impeccable clarity. Some of the images she chooses might be subject to interpretation – as on tracks like “Citrine (Would’ve Been Nice)” and the melancholy acoustic waltz “Goodbye, Sojourna” – but as Ward ventures through the various pleasures and cruelties of the human experience, each song revolves around a clear and well-defined axis. The final result is poetry without pretention.
While a more cowardly songwriter might hide behind vague, cryptic shadows of meaning, Ward is honest and straightforward. Some of the tracks here are deeply personal. A stand-out example is “Someone, Something New,” which was previously released as a single. Though the meaning is evident without her explanation, Ward’s press release describes the song as “a psychedelic exploration of her complicated relationship with her biological father and how trauma patterns can resurface.” The track references specific memories and situations from Ward’s life, but as in all of her songs, the central theme is poignant and universal: that trauma leaves an enduring mark on our souls. Essentially, although the album is about Ward, it is for all of us, and she entrusts each song to us with the understanding that we might feel her ecstasies and agonies as deeply as she does.
Ward doesn’t just sing about herself; she sings with herself. With a fluid grace that harkens back to the heavenly sound of a classical motet, she layers her own delicate vocal melodies on top of one another to create harmonies that are as haunting as they are angelic. Ward’s impressive vocal mastery allows her to perform soaring acrobatics with both melody and rhythm that would elude a weaker performer. Tracks like “Stepping Through,” “People Pleaser,” and “Medusa” stood out to me as having particularly memorable and compelling hooks and melodies made possible by Ward’s divine soprano.
As an anthem about the daunting task of self-actualization, the album’s opening track, “Stepping Through,” serves as a perfect introduction to Ward’s dreamlike sound. Ward makes the bold but effective choice to open her album in an eerie minor key, as if to warn us that although the journey ahead will be beautiful and enlightening, it will not be without its dangers. It’s Ward’s willingness to confront those dangers head on that makes Internal Rituals a work of art.
If Internal Rituals sets out to be a warts-and-all portrait of the internal experience, then Ward is committed to depicting those warts in as much exquisite detail as possible, and in doing so, she makes the darker moments as beautiful as the darker ones. On tracks like “Citrine,” “Burden,” “People Pleaser,” and “Someone, Something New,” Ward doesn’t shy away from the more inhospitable geography of the human psyche. She explores themes of denial, shame, manipulation, abuse, and trauma, but all theses tracks belie simple one-word explanations. Like all great storytellers, she captures the complex, nuanced nature of her themes, developing a thematic experience that is as multi-layered as her vocal harmonies.
Taken at face-value, “Citrine,” for example, is a deceptively simple lyric about desire and fulfillment, but Ward’s composition teases out so much more meaning that lyrics like “I don’t need you / It just would’ve been nice” would otherwise hold. Her soaring, plaintive vocals and ghostly soundscape suggest more than the lyrics alone could say, and we’re left with the impression that the singer might feel more deprived than she is willing to admit.
It's clear to me that Ward doesn’t just want us to listen to her album, she wants us to think about it, too. On the chillingly bittersweet “Immortal,” Ward sings “Don’t leave. Be immortal with me / I don’t want to think about the other possibility,” and in her ironic denial of the truth, she forces us to acknowledge the painful unreality of our desire for a love that defies mortality.
In spite of its dark tone, the album was an overall uplifting experience for me. That’s because at its heart, it’s an exploration of introspection and self-discovery, and there’s a catharsis in this that transcends grief. As a somber but strangely empowering retelling of the age-old myth, the bluesy “Medusa” stands out to me as emblematic of this principle. In it, the singer finds herself scapegoated and vilified for the crime of showing others the awful truth about themselves. Not only does Ward demonstrate an admirable grasp of the symbolism behind the myth, but she also demonstrates a refusal to victimized and recognition of her own self-worth, themes that recur on the later track, “Run,” which is a ballad about liberation.
If I were to select one track that best displays Ward’s strengths, it would be “Float,” one of Internal Rituals’ more unambiguously optimistic songs. According to Ward, the track “centers around the feeling of taking a leap,” but it’s a piece that needs to be heard to be appreciated. In the dreamy, lullaby-like anthem of faith and courage, Ward describes surrendering herself to a metaphorical body of water and finding that she floats. Meanwhile, she displays a cultivated talent for word-painting with vocals and instrumentations that imitate the gentle ripples of the proverbial “pool.” The result is an immersive and captivating piece that for me, represents the best of Ward’s lyrics, composition, and performance.
If Ward’s critically-acclaimed acoustic Stephen Sondheim covers didn’t make you think she had achieved greatness, Internal Rituals might convince you. Ward mentioned “memories, emotions, and astrological readings” as the inspirations for the album, and in transforming these things into an extended work of art, she created her own vector of mindfulness and reflection. Internal Rituals is more than a diversion comprised of pretty sounds. It’s also more than a privileged glimpse into the artist’s own internal world. Like a tarot card or a horoscope, it holds a wealth of meaning that’s ultimately in the eye of the beholder, and it demands that we practice our own internal rituals of self-reflection.
It’s an album that only needs one listen to make an impression on you, but I recommend adding it to your regular rotation.
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