Jeremy Enigk’s distaste for self-promotion is a relic from a time when reticence was an invaluable asset. Emo bands in the 1990s tended to be accessible and relatable, but Sunny Day Real Estate shunned press and for a time even refused to tour California; Enigk’s enigmatic nature, an extension of his otherworldly vocals, only added to the mystique that set the band apart from its peers. But while they made the record that tops basically every “Great Emo Albums” list in existence (and a subsequent one that’s more deserving), they spent most of the past decade on the sideline, about the only major act from their time that failed to capitalize on rejuvenated interest in the genre. Funded by PledgeMusic and supported with a living-room tour, Ghosts is entirely reliant upon his hustle. Not surprisingly, a common response to news of a new Jeremy Enigk album has been something like, “There’s a new Jeremy Enigk album?” But this works to Enigk’s advantage: When an indie-rock legend returns from a long hiatus with his finest album of the 21st century, it should feel like a bolt from the blue.
Keywords like “emo,” “DIY,” or even “Sunny Day Real Estate” won’t provide much guidance on Ghosts. When Enigk is left to his own devices, the sonic hallmarks of punk or hardcore have always been exchanged for the exact things they once opposed: the earnest, stately sprawl of artists like U2, Big Country, Peter Gabriel, and even Seal. This music tends to sound spiritual by default—devotion expressed not so much by quavering human vessels as by the magnificent architecture surrounding them. This was a logical trajectory, as Enigk’s vocals and religious leanings became more pronounced over time, but rarely was he bigger than the sound. Sunny Day Real Estate could’ve passed for a Tooth & Nail band on the bombastic The Rising Tide, and without that album’s counterbalance of heaving Guitar Center riffs and melodic sweep, the Fire Theft and his 2006 album World Waits were either too bloated to achieve liftoff or toppled over from their own clutter. His most recent solo album, OK Bear, appeared to be a course correction: a humble collection of zippy modern rock, as if that’s what anyone actually wanted from Jeremy Enigk.
Enigk is done trying to reconcile his orchestral ambitions with his singer/songwriter instincts; they’re now the same thing. The lavish, awe-inspiring design of Ghosts might be unexpected, given the album’s crowd-funded origins, though less so considering its eight-year gestation period, a complete lack of external pressure, and no apparent desire to acknowledge any contemporary trends. Rather than retracing familiar crescendos and dynamics, the songs on Ghosts levitate from the outset and maintain their altitude, anachronisms meant to be marveled at like zeppelins. The elements are familiar, just upscaled. Ruminative acoustic guitar figures are played on 12 strings, not six; the drum kit booms and swells like tympani; if there’s a violin in the mix, there’s probably a whole string section.
Rarely does Enigk sound like he’s fronting a power trio. The curiously cynical “Amazing Worlds” is the one instance that recalls the sad songs and waltzes of The Rising Tide, only given a luminous, stained-glass polish. But Ghosts never gives the impression that Enigk is trying to force majestic arrangements on songs that either don’t need them or can’t support them. “What else can I say but I miss you?” he sings over harp-like plucks on “Ancient Road,” which sounds like it was workshopped in cathedrals and arenas rather than on a 4-track in his bedroom; in these situations, it’s fun to imagine whether ecclesiastical emo advocate Julien Baker’s albums were inspired by Jeremy Enigk or vice versa. It’s even more fun to hear Enigk when he’s set it motion; “Sacred Fire” may hew a little close to the coffee-shop electronica of Dido and Beth Orton, but the self-explanatory “Onaroll” is a career highlight, emerging from a pulsing, muted house beat to a crescendo worthy of How It Feels to Be Something On. It’s worth considering what a vocalist with Enigk’s ecstatic capacity could accomplish collaborating with a savvy and open-minded dance producer.
Conversely, those who found tear-stained ballads like “Rain Song” and “The Ocean” to be a renunciation of SDRE’s emo roots rather than an evolution will almost certainly find Ghosts to be cloying—if titles like “Sacred Fire” suggest Enigk getting a little too precious, lyrics like “Open the secret door to your heart” and “In a game of give and take, you always take too much” aren’t here to make an argument. “Victory” sounds like exactly that, and would be a more appropriate contribution to a superhero flick than his last one. “The Long Wait Is Over” is every bit as transparent: The hi-def reverb and patient pace are proof enough that whatever we were waiting for, it was for a long-ass time, and the insistent cymbal crashes and octave leaps towards the end are the relief. While Enigk’s 21st-century albums have been criticized as overly bombastic, Ghosts proves in hindsight that they weren’t big and direct enough. Diary is his past; becoming an open book is his future.
