Weyes Blood's Titanic Rising: A beautifully sinking feeling
There's something strangely comforting about listening to Titanic Rising. It's like flipping through an old photo album - one filled with sun-faded memories and Polaroids of a world that never quite was. Weyes Blood (Natalie Mering) doesn't just sing songs; she crafts sonic landscapes that shimmer with nostalgia, longing, and the quiet dread of modern existence. And yet, despite its dreamy, baroque pop elegance, this album isn't an exercise in mere escapism. It's a reckoning.
The sound of a slowly flooding room
There's a reason the album cover features Mering floating in a fully submerged bedroom. Titanic Rising feels like a slow-motion catastrophe - not the violent kind, but the creeping realization that the world we've built is slowly slipping through our fingers. Musically, though, the album is anything but chaotic. It's lush, precise, and hauntingly gorgeous.
From the first notes of A Lot's Gonna Change, you're wrapped in a warm, melancholic haze. The rich piano chords and sweeping strings recall the grandiosity of 70s singer-songwriters like Joni Mitchell and Carole King, but Mering's voice - soft yet commanding - grounds it in something undeniably modern. She's not imitating the past; she's mourning its loss.
Sci-fi nostalgia and existential dread
One of the album's greatest strengths is how it blends the deeply personal with the eerily universal. Take Andromeda, a spacey waltz that sounds like it could've been beamed in from a lost AM radio station orbiting a distant planet. It's cosmic, but it's also deeply human - a meditation on unreachable love and the limits of hope.
The same goes for Movies, a track that might be Titanic Rising's emotional core. It starts as a delicate synth-driven lullaby before swelling into something almost terrifying. "I want to be in my own movie", Mering sings, her voice layered into an echoing choir. It's not just a commentary on our screen-obsessed culture; it's a lament for the way we shape our lives around fantasies that never quite materialize.
The emotional weight of a world adrift
If there's a thesis statement hidden in the album, it might be Something to Believe, where Mering openly aches for meaning in an increasingly disorienting world. "Give me something I can see", she pleads over cascading piano chords and swelling orchestration. It's devastating because, well - who hasn't felt that way?
And yet, despite its heavy themes, Titanic Rising isn't bleak. Even in its darkest moments, there's an undercurrent of wonder. The arrangements - reminiscent of peak Beach Boys and late-career Scott Walker - are meticulously crafted, filled with swelling strings, analog synths, and layered harmonies that make everything feel bigger than life. Mering isn't just singing about despair; she's elevating it into something beautiful.
Final Thoughts
Weyes Blood has created something special with Titanic Rising. It's an album that feels out of time yet perfectly suited for the moment - a baroque pop masterpiece that grapples with existential uncertainty while remaining impossibly gorgeous.
If you're looking for easy background music, this isn't it. Titanic Rising demands attention. It's the kind of album you get lost in, the kind that lingers long after the final notes fade. And honestly, in a world that feels increasingly adrift, there's something deeply reassuring about that.
FINAL SCORE: 9/10