California-born bluegrass band Nickel Creek are one such band. Their first-ever record dates far back to the early 1990s and they're still alive and in great harmony, even after a seven-year hiatus in 2007.
Comprising Chris Thile and siblings Sara and Sean Watkins, after finishing the tour for their fifth album Why Should the Fire Die?, they each departed to musical paths that corresponded to their respective interests. Not until 2014 did they reunite and release A Dotted Line, a portrayal of maturity festooned with joy and optimism through the acquired refinement of their abilities: a return to form that’s warmly welcomed by everyone, fans or critics alike.
Occasional collaborations have been blips on their discography; brief performances in 2017 and 2019, the use of their song in one of the Netflix series and the subsequent announcement of a live album in 2020. For a band this old, it is, without doubt, appropriate to assume that their lives have been laced up together in one unified string. They’ve known one another to the deepest corners of their personalities, every flaw and beauty of each registered in their memory, most hurdles acknowledged and partly resolved with one accord. Perhaps this new album, titled Celebrants, is a celebration of all those things – a delicate, ambitious inspection of who they once were and who they are now, of their long-lasting friendship and ever-growing love, of their kinship that has been tested and proven genuine.
“My God, it’s good to see you” is the opening line of the 18-track, 50-minute record – its vigorous percussion and clapping signalling the urge to revive the synergy and pronounce their impenetrable esprit de corps. This zeal in unravelling poems that underline the importance of rapport, romantic connection, and self-reliance – some lyrical and allusive, some simple and direct – is almost always present, its cause being rooted in the 9 whole years of no new collaborative material. There are hardly any instrumental tracks here – only 2, in fact, which is relatively a small amount when compared with their other albums. Narrative pieces are entirely taken to the forefront of Celebrants, becoming a sprawling anthology of each member’s past experiences and hefty feelings.
Nickel Creek’s great storytelling and vivid imagery, in most cases, never fails to enrich these anecdotes and reminiscences. “Strangers”, the band’s first taste of Celebrants, depicts the effortless reunion of the group. Feeling like they have missed “absolutely nothing” even after years of parting ways, they realise that, however far away, they’ll never become estranged from one another; on the contrary, they’ll always be one compelling force, one singular “water” that is “too long coming to be gone”. Enchanting and fable-like “Goddamned Saint” is a coming-of-age anthem that unveils the tale of a little boy who set himself free from the bubble he was confined in. Once a scared, shy child, he grew into a liberated soul who flew through the plausible metamorphoses of self, ignoring the vexing disagreements, towards finding his own true voice.
Its lyrical content laid aside, has bluegrass ever sounded so vast – so cheerful and liberating? On “To the Airport”, Sara’s violin rapturously takes the lead; Sean’s guitar and Chris’ mandolin, following her riveting speed, act as the ardent supporters – altogether creating one of the most magical moments of the record. The song then whirls into “...Despite the Weather”, a stunning interlude that recalls what made Nickel Creek such a captivating band in the first place: their synergy – one lending hand to the other, a melody a pillar of another – is wonderfully dynamic. It’s a testament to the three being inseparable kindred spirits, who once were kids with dreams that were thought bigger than themselves.
