Helena Deland both unsettles and comforts with her second album, a poetic confession steeped in loss and escaped time.
Singer-songwriter Helena Deland’s first album saw her seeking to determine herself, to hide from the eyes of others. Now, she’s trying to look at something no longer there.
Goodnight Summerland gives us the impression of macerating in an abstract space, which the cover represents very well. Given the project’s title, it’s true that it’s best listened to at night. Silence and stillness are personified by the music, which speaks loudly through its immense restraint. Primarily made up of a simple guitar, a gentle terrain forms, allowing the lyrics to soar. Light synthesizers are woven here and there, but the whole can be seen as an earthy soil that fertilizes the poetry. The space is decidedly left to the voice. The artist undoubtedly wanted us to be able to grasp every detail of her utterance.
Because it’s the text that gives the album its structure and strength. Thanks to the minimal presence of other elements, it makes its way directly to our sensibilities. Clearly fueled by grief, Deland speaks of time lost and regretted: “If I could make this last, take more of this moment, trade in some of my past” she says more than she sings on “Swimmer.” And this kind of brutally honest vocal execution is everywhere else. We’re dealing here with a confession, and helplessness takes over from sentimental modesty.
One of the album’s main themes is language, and its often heartbreaking inability to allow us to say what we really want to say. But Deland still pushes for contact: “Words feel like treacherous footing, slippery rocks, but believe me, saying anything might be crucial,” she says on “Saying Something.”
Because sometimes, a certain “Hello? Do you hear me?” on the other end of the line can be more meaningful than anything else you might say. Sometimes, the act of speaking is worth its own weight in gold. All the more so in retrospect, when the other person doesn’t pick up the phone. Goodnight Summerland shares this desire, this pure, aimless intention. It’s mourning, a love that no longer knows what to hold on to.
