As far as albums go, Microspirit is more of a frolic in the garden than a wonder through the woods. Quaint almost to the point of cutesy, Frail Talk crafted a subdued fourteen tracks, spit shining their superb indie folk in nostalgia. Helmed by Northern Colorado-based Cor Wright and Alex Woodchek along with drummer Tobias Bank and bass/banjo player Nathanial Riley, Frail Talk delivers an inspired sophomore album that aches as much as it heals.
While Frail Talk may not fully elevate in energy on Microspirit, there is a subtle groove for much of the album. Songs like “shapeshifting” and “pining” push the album forward and “little like you” gives it that nice scene kid landing. The real heart of the album though is found on tracks like “little al” and “little shapes”, where Wright and Woodchek’s hushed vocals and simplistic songwriting doesn’t just add another layer but elevates the songs to a new place.
Recorded in Silsbee, Texas at Lazy Bones Audio, production-wise the album is crisp and polished, carefully crafting an elegant blend of whispering acoustic folk with experimental electronic elements. While the style might not be breaking any new ground it clearly captures some very special moments presenting an album that feels both organic and modern without contradicting itself.
The undercurrent to Microspirit is a sense of holding on to special little memories. It’s about riding the intoxicating wave of nostalgia that is such a comforting place to draw from for modern artists. While it serves the music for Microspirit and scratches a certain itch, it leaves the listener carrying the baggage of a past that looks a little more shiny than it probably was. It gives us childhood memories neatly tucked in and buttoned up when the reality was most likely very different. Where we like to remember happy moments and simple pleasures, those moments were spent just like our present; barely keeping it together while trying to live up to our own expectations from moment to moment.
This is where Frail Talk finds themselves at the end of Microspirit. What they have on their hands is a cup that overflows with hopefulness and whimsy, so much so that we might all be in danger of drowning. The real question then becomes, when that cup runs dry what’s left? When we peel back that top layer of slick production and fond memories, is there enough substance to stand alone? The answer is in the eye of the beholder but if you asked Frail Talk they would probably say stop taking it so seriously and get some sunshine.
