Record Review: Quin Galavis
My Life in Steel and Concrete (Super Secret)
On his ambitious, wide-release sophomore solo album, Quin Galavis lays bare his insecurities, fears, and existential ponderings through 20 thematic shards of literature. While varied in plot, the emotionally raw vignettes stack into a spirit quest about understanding the golden moments of life and death, dream and reality, and boldly facing it all without excuse. The double LP, packaged with the look of a Victorian novel, subdivides into four sections. The Tragedy of Miss Foster unfolds with the crushing gothic post-punk of "Hand of Light," Galavis' Nick Cave baritone booming adversarial to divine forces. Side B, the Long Walk of Mr. Morrow, peaks with the Bowie-esque "Terrific Failure," riding the bow of Graham Low's haunting cello. Settling into a reflective singer-songwriter mode that summons angels with the gorgeous "Evermore" on the Tears of Lady Guadalupe, Galavis spews aggro-punk with "Hate." The album's piano-heavy denouement, the Ancient Fire of Northway, winds down on "Those Little Dreams," the young father singing: "If we focus on this endless race, there's so much we will forget to embrace. And son, as you grow on this spinning rock, I hope you know the power you've got." Equal parts Bob Mould and Edgar Allan Poe, Quin Galavis emerges as an artist approaching greatness, contrasting pitch black with blinding enlightenment to articulate life in a way that's complex, yet universal. While modern music overuses dreaminess, he accomplishes higher-plane context while remaining real and grounded. Like steel and concrete.