$35
The constant of change has, deliberately or not, been one of the driving forces of Halifax’s Hillsburn. From its early days as a harmony-heavy folk outfit to three albums spent evolving and expanding its full-band sound to its current iteration as an indie-pop four-piece, songcraft has been the steadfast centre of an often-shifting musical outlook. Its latest EP, Stories, is a culmination of growth and upheaval, movement and loss, the sound of something new being forged in the moment.
The six tracks on Stories will certainly not scare off any existing Hillsburn fans—like Aarntzen, Burrill has a knack for scenes set in nature, universal observations that connect on an intimate level, masterworks of literature (in this case, Fleetwood Mac’s Rumours), and highly shoutable refrains. On the opener “Truths You Outrun,” he recounts a lonely season spent “trying to mute my fear,” before realizing it wasn’t possible: “When your eyes close, you’re gonna feel it burn.” “Room Across The Hall” is nostalgic for a relationship, starting quietly and gaining volume and propulsion, each section ending on a melancholy dream: “I know I’d find you dancing your head off, like you’re never gonna stop.” The horn-laden “I Knew The Times Weren’t Perfect (But The Drugs Aren’t Working)” is eminently danceable, though its buoyant mood and bridge straight out of “Be My Baby” actively belie the lyrics’ book-burning and hopelessness. The closer “Roslyn” is the only ballad on this otherwise upbeat collection—its tale of a time gone by, coupled with Clayton’s piano and Rosanna’s violin, makes its two-and-a-half minutes feel like the score to a short film.
The band supporting the words is, of course, the same—rooted in Macdonald’s tasteful, nuanced drumming; enhanced by Fairfax-Perry’s synths and horns; pulled to breathtaking peaks by Rosanna’s robust, emotive voice. Aarntzen, by the way, is still on the scene in a consultant role—he helped Clayton with the occasional lyric, was present at the Sonic Temple sessions to offer insight, and engineered the bulk of Stories in his home studio. The hallmarks of a Hillsburn song are heart and heights, and that doesn’t—it can’t—come from just one person.
Progress is inescapable, loss inevitable, growth unavoidable. But sometimes when you lean into it all, you discover that—even if it made you sad, even if you fought it, even if you worried it might not work—you always had everything you needed.