- Sean Conran is one of those artists who, without planning it, is perfectly fitted for the pandemic era. A song-writing machine, with acoustic guitar in hand, his expansive old collections and mixtapes are a treasure trove -if not a snow drift- of clever, elliptical lyricism, whispered over elegant riffs. I get the feeling that being stuck in doors with his brain and his axe is just more of the same for him. At any rate, in the latter incarnation of his long-running Obscura Hail project -which adds in Tamara Issa on bass’n’backing vox and Kaelan Edmond on drums and heads in a much more rocking direction- whatever challenges they may have faced this year, you can bet that having songs to perform wasn’t one of them. More than that though, in a way that seems at odds with the glum ol’ Obscura Hail I’ve come to know, obstacles seem to be disappearing for Conran and co., things are just going unexpectedly well.
Getting back to Conran’s torrential capacity for songwriting, it’s a little ironic that Obscura Hail’s latest release, Siren, is, much like 2019’s Zero, a modest, five track EP; I wonder what kind of self-control it took Sean to limit himself like that? He might even be feeling a bit guilty about turning down the faucet to a dribble and that’s why both EPs are being released as a bundle on his bandcamp. At any rate, the narrower focus has given the trio the chance to produce many different versions of the songs that have found their way out into public, obsessing endlessly over what we finally get to hear.
Opening number, Doomer, ends up less polished to a showroom finish, than it is shredded into abrasive steel wool. It takes the ‘90’s indie-pop sensibilities that we’re familiar with, pours accelerant all over them and sets a crackling, shoegaze blaze. Burning everything down feels appropriate for a song about climate defeatism, which opens with Conran taking aim at consumers who stick their heads in the sand: “I’m so focused on my story / While surrounded by panic / Keep using my privilege / To access the planet”. It’s actually kind of optimistic though, taking the ignorant by the hand and showing them the way: “From now on tally / Riot, rally / To show we understand / That the world ain’t a ship to go down with”.
The conscious themes continue on Idle Hands, a more familiar slice of that same indie-pop, but given a real shimmy by the bossa-nova rhythms downstairs. It invites the bored and maladjusted to join a conga-line of personal responsibility “You need to get a grip / On someone else’s hips and get moving ...If you got idle hands / And it feels like nobody understands / Your fingertip is a radar / Wait for the blip, you can thank me later.”
I’m not sure it’ll please Sean to learn that I love his old acoustic stuff more than anything else and Penumbra, based on a loop of it taken from the archives, is my favourite song on the EP. It’s a tribute to his teens and deeply nostalgic all-over: “I’m laying on my trampoline / A far cry from university / I’m taking selfies on my Gameboy camera / Doom 2 paused I’ll go and play it later.”
Uniform shrugs off the sentimental recollections and doses up on edgy, post-punk paranoia. Without ever abandoning the pop sensibilities that ground the entire record and without direct accusations, it makes vague allusions to all sorts of uncertainties, nervousness and conspiracy, which seem to lurk everywhere right now. As Sean repeats nervily “There’s something not right about a uniform”; well you don’t need to tell me!
Town Cryer is my other favourite here. It says something about me that one of the qualities I appreciate most in Obscura Hail is the capacity for haunting sadness, a-la Elliott Smith. Another appropriate one for the times, this song is a searching examination of self and depression “A funny thought crossed my mind / Will I come out the other side stronger / Another followed close behind / Without me, would you be better?” Apparently, there were two versions of Town Cryer: in line with the rest of the EP there was a poppy one -which is the one we hear- and a straight-up heartbreaker. Again, what does it say about me, but I would like to hear that tearjerker. Sean Conran, armed with his pop sensibilities, seems set to take the higher road and beat the black dog: “The mean ones make you cry / But the loved ones make you cry harder / You do until you die / Or you end up the town cryer.” Well, it’s a start, anyway.
2020 has been a tough year all round, but I get the feeling it’s been a good one for Sean Conran. He’s got his band, he’s enjoying the fruits of signing to Dot Dash and he’s pushing his songcraft ever forward. The sweetly irrepressible pop of Siren is like his own spirit, across the EP he’s rolling with the punches and even reaching out to others, saying, ‘hey, we can do this.’ I’ll still like my sad songs, but I can’t deny him his happiness.
- Chris Cobcroft.