Few musicians have ever made a sonic reinvention look easy. Pop stars often toy with their aesthetics, crafting “eras,” to borrow a word that feels like it lives in the custody of Taylor Swift. As Sinai Vessel, Caleb Cordes arguably made one of the most successful pivots in recent indie memory, letting go of his roaring emo origins for something gentler and more methodical. What made the transition work so well is that Cordes’s words hit just as hard, if not harder, when delivered over soft rock production that is at once detailed and understated. Now more than a decade into his career as a songwriter, Cordes has alt-folk Sinai Vessel on overdrive for I SING, an enchanting collection of songs that center his sincere commentary and charming wit.
For I SING, Cordes sounds unburdened by pretense but overburdened by the rest of what it takes to exist. He’s plagued by envy for the born-rich and their brilliant homes on “Laughing” and interpersonal letdowns on “Birthday,” delivered in rhythmically and stylistically conversational English. On “Birthday,” especially, you feel like you’re along for the ride: “Have breakfast out at some cafe / Where the conversation strained / Here and so soon gone away / Not much to say.” Cordes isn’t just a singer; he’s a storyteller, and whether it’s over minimalist bossa nova or pedal-steel inflected capital-C country, the narrative maintains the spotlight.
At times, Cordes uses his words to describe how those words even got there at all. As Sinai Vessel, it feels as if songwriting is a curse and a calling, something Cordes came to through divine intervention but keeps revisiting to make rent. On “Doesn’t Matter,” he recounts a minor writing snafu: “Victim to a leaking pen / Pressed one page / And bled on 10 / Into the recycle bin.” On the title track, singer-songwriter-as-caste makes an appearance: “I sing for a reason / My reason’s the same / As the nurses buying rentals / And rides to Broadway.” Just as his Nashville home serves as the bachelorette party capital of the country, Cordes simply sings because that’s his role. He knows he’s capable even if the system doesn’t reward him with riches. And, as Cordes comes into DIY veteranhood, his reflection on his past, present and future in music is clear: He exudes a sureness-of-self and sobriety about the world he inhabits.
Cordes doesn’t just sing on I SING. He also serves as co-producer alongside Bennett Littlejohn, whose touches on records by Molly Drag, claire rousay and Hovvdy have an unmistakable smoothness that give songwriters room to roam. The guitars on “Country Mile” feel propulsive but not rushed, the drums on “Window Blue” feel punctuated but not sharp, the outro on “Attack” feels huge but not over-the-top. Everyone involved with I SING knows how to suss out the happy medium in every production choice without careening towards what’s generic. Even moves that feel like timeless singer-songwriter folk tricks feel bespoke, indicative of an album carefully balanced between novelty and familiarity. It’s as if I SING has always been a part of Sinai Vessel’s canon and that of indie rock at large.
I SING lives somewhere in-between a thesis statement and a reticent declaration, delivered plaintively but not without a shot of humor. As an album, I SING is natural, presenting Cordes as a seasoned singer-songwriter rocked by legitimate emotion and years of experience writing, touring and, of course, singing. An act with a history like Sinai Vessel’s would be forgiven for presenting this whole “making music” thing as something that’s run him ragged. Cordes is happy to admit that his indie life has been far from glamorous, but I SING is not jaded. Sinai Vessel presents himself and his imperfect circumstances matter-of-factly, promising to dissect them with the same care he’s approached every subject over his evolving practice. If you can exhale, you can sing; Cordes has chosen to do both, at last.
Read our recent feature on Sinai Vessel here.
Devon Chodzin is a Pittsburgh-based critic and urban planner with bylines at Aquarium Drunkard, Stereogum, Bandcamp Daily and more. He lives on Twitter @bigugly.
