Big Thief is one of very few contemporary bands whose steam never seems to run out. Since their 2016 debut Masterpiece, they’ve maintained a consistently excellent output, letting their ideas unfurl and take shape organically and then concentrating them into a meticulous, cohesive, sonically beautiful whole. On top of tapping into an abundant vein of lush instrumentation to complement their ideas, much of their success could be attributed to the group’s lead vocalist and songwriter Adrianne Lenker, who remains peerless in her ability to weave vivid images and intense feelings into a rich, visceral tapestry of lyrics that range from the thrillingly raucous to the poignantly contemplative.
But of course, as time goes on, things inevitably have to change, and even great, seemingly ironclad bands aren’t safe from unexpected shakeups. In July of last year, co-founder and bassist Max Oleartchik left Big Thief for “interpersonal reasons.” Similarly, Double Infinity, Big Thief’s follow-up to their epic double-album Dragon New Warm Mountain, I Believe In You, is also a departure of sorts, recalibrating the band’s woodsy, folksy sound into a more percussive, psychedelic direction. Luckily, this organizational restructuring and stylistic experimentation haven’t interfered with the band’s continual hot streak. In fact, Double Infinity seems to relish in the exhilaration and possibility that change brings. Difficult as it is to leave behind a longstanding partnership, a hard reset can be necessary to help ease into the process of moving on, and Big Thief’s fearlessness into the unknown makes this album all the better.
Though just nine tracks long, Double Infinity rarely feels lean or lightweight. Virtually every song on the album is as full, thought-through, and minutely detailed as their previous work, which makes guitarist Buck Meek’s claim that the recording process went “purely on instinct” all the more impressive. Perhaps the flow from performing as the backing band on Tucker Zimmerman’s album Dance of Love snuck its way back into their own work. As always, Lenker’s songwriting is top-notch, particularly on “Incomprehensible,” a banger of an opener. The song begins with what sounds like a cannonball into a pool of metal and wind chimes before Lenker launches into a warm, mindful meditation on the past and future, replete with impeccably rhymed verses about nature and succinct, disarmingly wise philosophical musings.
Throughout “Incomprehensible,” Lenker oscillates almost effortlessly between looking outward and inward, observing her surroundings with wide, curious eyes (“Ravens and the crows / Robins and the sparrows”), trinkets from her childhood (“Mr. Bear / And the wooden box I hid”), and the beauty of aging (“The message spirals / Don’t get saggy, don’t get gray / But the soft and lovely silvers are now falling on my shoulder”). Her words, uttered with a gentle and purposeful lilt, spill out like stream-of-consciousness poetry, impressionistic yet somehow perfectly articulated.
The songs that follow have a similarly hypnotic effect in their spirited presentation: the upbeat, jangly, ‘90s alt-rock gallop of “Words” gives the song’s winding exploration of the ineffable some propulsion; “Los Angeles” starts its romantic, cross-country yearning with a sweet chorus of laughter and ends with a great guitar outro; and “All Night All Day” buoys its celebration of pleasure and physical touch with lovely harmonies and a groovy, twinkly bounce reminiscent of Arcade Fire’s Reflektor. “Double Infinity,” which just so happens to be the name of the place Lenker recorded last year’s Bright Future, functions as the album’s high point, with each verse ending on a present participle that reflects Lenker’s constantly shifting emotional state (“waiting,” “gaining,” “raging,” “cascading”). The song’s ruminative tone and production wouldn’t feel out of place on any of Big Thief’s other albums, yet it remains a stunning thesis for the band’s embrace of the present, bridging regret and desire, or “what’s been lost and what lies waiting.”
In its second half, Double Infinity continues to surrender to existential and formal control by entering a looser, more vibe-inclined mode. That free-spirited attitude works on the spry, sparkling “Happy with You” and the lengthy, body sway-inducing “No Fear,” both of which trade the passionate, cerebral shuffle of the album’s first half for something denser and more atmospheric. Simultaneously, that attitude very briefly knocks the album’s steady momentum off its axis on “Grandmother,” which is perhaps the one slightly negative outlier on the album. Bringing ambient artist Laraaji and singers Hannah Cohen and Alena Spanger in to contribute to the song is an admirable change of pace for such an insular-minded band, and it’s also the first track Lenker, Meek, and drummer James Krivchenia wrote together. But incorporating outside voices into the fold sounds more interesting in theory than execution here, as the song’s strained, overwrought attempt at turning emotional anguish into an earnest anthem about the healing power of “rock and roll” gives it a somewhat corny, campfire sing-along quality.
That minor hiccup, however, gets extinguished on the closer “How Could I Have Known,” whose stirring string arrangements cohere nicely with Lenker’s appreciation and ultimate release of a longtime love. This hopeful concluding note not only works as a form of radical acceptance around the transience of relationships, but also seems to reflect Big Thief’s grappling with the weight of losing one of their own and learning to deal with life moving forward. Double Infinity may not be Big Thief’s best record—it is indeed difficult to follow up the formidable one-two-three punch of U.F.O.F., Two Hands, and Dragon New Warm Mountain, I Believe In You—but it’s still a relatively strong one, unflinchingly optimistic in its perspective and often beguiling in its execution. Whatever the case may be behind Oleartchik’s exit, it’s evident Lenker, Meek, and Krivchenia are trying to take it in stride.
Sam Rosenberg is a filmmaker and freelance entertainment writer from Los Angeles with bylines in The Daily Beast, Consequence, AltPress and Metacritic. You can find him on Twitter @samiamrosenberg.
