Julianna Barwick’s Rosabi EP was created in collaboration with Dogfish Head Brewery, a fact that feels strange to type. There's nothing new or particularly notable about smaller artists from independent music partnering with brands from another sphere, but the Barwick/Dogfish meeting feels weird regardless. Her music, built on her ultra-ethereal voice and treated and looped into what can resemble hymns, seems so private and intimate and, for lack of a better word, “pure” (to borrow the title of the first song here). Also, her career seems modest in terms of sales and her profile, so notions of brand synergy are, from one angle, counterintuitive.
Whatever the case, the pairing hasn’t altered Barwick’s approach to music. The one concession to the partnership is that elements recorded inside the brewery have been added to the compositions—you can hear some background banging, hissing, and rattling here and there, but small touches like these have been present in Barwick’s music on her last two full-lengths. So unless you get the limited 10" edition that comes with bottles of Dogfish’s contribution, there’s no real reason to think of this as anything other than a new Julianna Barwick release.
Indeed, Rosabi sounds very much like music by Julianna Barwick, which, for fans, is a comforting thought. It doesn’t have the added instrumentation of the last two releases and is comparatively stripped down—an approach that's closer to her earlier, pre-studio work—but the overall effect is identical: gorgeous repeating vocals forming a cozy bed underneath Barwick’s melodic flourishes. Her records are such that individual tracks will jump out at certain people based on a personal memory or association, not because any one song necessarily is “better” than another. The fact that a sound so uniform can move different people in different ways speaks to why Barwick’s work can feel so close—you really do hear it and go into yourself. For me, that highlight is the closing “Blood Brothers”, whose repeating “da-do-da-da” refrain just guts me, even if I can’t quite put a finger on why.
As much as I love letting Rosabi wash over me, it also raises some interesting questions about what happens when an artist continues with an aesthetic they’ve more or less perfected. There’s no real reason to think that Julianna Barwick couldn’t keep making lovely music that sounds something like this for the rest of her life, and there’s also no reason to think I wouldn’t continue to listen to and enjoy each new release in turn. But does that mean that as long as she stays on this path it’s impossible for her to fail? Does that matter? Is “growth” something she can concern herself with, or not, as I continue to enjoy what she comes up with? How will I distinguish between Barwick releases and what will inform my decision to play one instead of another? It’s a lot to think about, and I enjoy pondering these questions, especially while having this 16-minute slice of simple beauty on repeat. Eventually I’ll try enjoying a beer while doing so and see how that goes.
