Nine years ago, Sophie Allison was pulling back the curtains on Soccer Mommy. “I know what it’s like to be alone,” she sang, a self-deprecatory promise laying the groundwork for her lo-fi bedroom pop. Back then, Soccer Mommy stripped down lovelorn and defeated songs to just acoustic guitar and roving vocal melodies that seared the heart. She wasn’t the only singer-songwriter working in that vein, but the rawness of her approach earned the teenager a cult following on Bandcamp. While demoing Evergreen, her fourth studio album, Allison knew she wanted to return to that sparse instrumentation. But if 2018’s Clean paired it with the wildly inspired musings of an introvert bursting to get outdoors, then Evergreen uses it for the tranquil reflections of an adult desperate for the security and predictability of her bedroom days.
Across Evergreen, Allison steeps in a loneliness that’s darker than the one of her youth. She’s consumed by grief following the deep, personal loss of a loved one, and everywhere she looks she’s reminded of her absence. On opener “Lost,” Allison admits basic truths to herself—this person’s really gone, their conversations are a thing of the past—but also grapples with feeling selfish for wanting more from someone who gave “until there’s nothing left.” Her grief cuts to the bone, and in typical Soccer Mommy fashion, it elicits empathy, even familiarity, as she documents the struggles: sleeping poorly, talking to empty hallways, remembering the sound of her loved one’s voice. In “Dreaming of Falling,” Allison confesses she hears the call of the void on the regular and fights to not give in. “I see from the shadows now,” she sings over a slow guitar riff. “Half of my life is behind me and the other has changed somehow.”
Allison couples these thoughts with the most laid-back, pastoral music of Soccer Mommy’s discography. Uptempo single “M” cushions its guitars and drums so they bounce along softly and ends with a fairytale flute solo. “Changes” drifts like a dream, rendering the feeling of nostalgic pining with romantic violins and cinematic string swells. Evergreen is pristine and light, as indebted to Soccer Mommy’s early sound as it is to the restorative effects of nature—to obtain early access to the album, fans had to stroll through their local parks. But as delicate and straightforward as these songs sound, they’re carefully constructed. Those aren’t field recordings on “Lost,” but the manipulations of a Microcosm granular effects pedal that morphs Allison’s whistling into bird calls, humming into frog croaks, and exhales into gusts of wind. It’s as though to forge through the grieving process, she needed to replicate the oxygen-rich air of the outdoors.
For Allison, the hardest part of grief is navigating recurring memories. Desperate to preserve the image of the person she lost while simultaneously dogged by painful reminders, Allison can’t help but think of her while looking at the stars or passing old haunts. The comfort of clinging to the past chafes against the will to move forward, and Soccer Mommy evokes that tension with wispy acoustic guitars that cradle words of pain. “How long is too long to be still thinking of you?” Allison pleads over strange chords in “Thinking of You.” The song feels in direct conversation with “Salt in Wound,” a snapshot of nighttime walks and long drives that trigger flashbacks. Even “Abigail,” an ode to her purple-haired wife in Stardew Valley that began as a writing exercise, functions as a form of escape from compounding memories.
What do we lose with time? Loved ones, of course, and the clarity of their laughter, but also naivety, grudges, and rose-tinted glasses. Though she’s ambling through a depressive haze on Evergreen, Allison knows that loss eventually teaches us a more patient and complex understanding of the world. “Two years gone by and I’m still pondering it all/She cannot fade,” Allison sings on the title track. Her voice sounds tired—grieving is draining—but aware of what it all means. Time is change, and though we pretend to have a say in both, we adapt. By the end of Evergreen, Allison seems to look at that word, “evergreen,” differently: Even in their physical absence, our loved ones are with us not as a permanent haunting, but a steadfast presence whose purpose is ever-changing.
