If Baths’ Cerulean — released in 2010 — was a poppy, pastel love song, Obsidian is its antithesis, full of sharp edges, a glossy and enigmatic ode to suffering. The stage moniker of Will Wiesenfeld, Baths wrote much of Obsidian after an incapacitating bout with E. coli, resulting in an album that revolves around themes of death and apathy and leaves no lyrical landscape untouched. The Los Angeles musician describes in no uncertain terms the emptiness of a dead bedroom, unforgiving one-night stands and the depths of depression. In his unprecedented brutal honesty and full instrumentation, Wiesenfeld not only gives outlet to his desires and frustrations but also evolves into a more mature artist — one that has emerged from torment to create music more beautiful than ever.
Continuing to straddle the line between pop and electronica, Baths’ stilted beats and stripped-down vocals move from playful to unsettling throughout Obsidian. The opening track, “Worsening,” leads in with seemingly divergent threads that fall together unexpectedly in the bright, energetic chorus. As if to provide counterbalance, Wiesenfeld’s lyrics are almost mumbled over the track, with their apathy finding its way into every crevice: “Never prayed, never paid any attention/Never felt any affection/Never a lot of thought to life.” The album’s single “Miasma Sky” turns to despair in sleek synths and key modulations, while the following “Ironworks” stutters and sighs over a delicate piano refrain.
On Obsidian, Baths pulls inspiration from lofty places. Ancient chests filled with bones of the interred were the wellspring of “Ossuary,” where the effects of his illness are clearly at play: “Oh frailty,” he whispers, “What worse fates could you possibly show me?” Then, Greek mythology is brought to life in “Phaedra,” a doomed love story of suicide and mortality. In “No Eyes” and “Incompatible,” the coldness of anonymous sex disclosed in the former is brought home in the latter as the narrator finds himself completely indifferent to his lover (“First boyfriend / You live in my house and we share a toilet seat / And I am not the least bit drawn to your heat”).
In an interview with “LA Weekly,” Wiesenfeld describes his appreciation for anime and manga, saying, “It’s that perfect mix between very real human interactions and the outlandish. You feel like because there’s so much more happening in that world, your heart can just expand and experience so much.” Obsidian, much like Cerulean, takes the mundane and stretches it into poetry, compelling the listener to redefine the human and absurd in Baths’ dark and fantastical world.
Contact Mohana Kute at [email protected].