by Isobel Mohyeddin (@iso_mohyeddin)
Revisiting albums from pre-COVID 2020 is a great grounding exercise for when things get a little too overwhelming. These records serve as a reminder that life hasn’t always been this way, and that things are bound to change again eventually. We’re all simply waiting for that next twist in the road -- a rebirth of life as we know it. When I recently re-stumbled upon Squirrel Flower (aka Ella O'Connor Williams)’s I Was Born Swimming, it felt like I was reconnecting with an old friend. In some ways, I Was Born Swimming is a perfect record for this period of isolation. Recounting intimate moments from her life (literally starting from her own birth on the titular track), Williams navigates through feelings of loneliness, anxiousness, and heartbreak with the goal of constantly moving forward.
The record starts out with a drive down “I-80,” the first sign that this is going to be a literal journey of a record. Her brooding and clear vocals immediately evoke similarities to some of the titans of indie crooning (like Lucy Dacus or Mitski). The track is a stirring story of self-doubt and the struggle to find a sense of belonging. This rootlessness, however, is quickly foiled by the freedom that comes with being able to drive down the highway and completely start over somewhere new. The track builds in intensity lyrically and thematically, with pounding drums, increasingly heavier guitars and a steady bassline to match. This build-up eventually dissolves into a much softer and quieter second half, ending with Williams repeating a mantra of “Turn away / fly away”.
“I-80” is immediately followed by the most acclaimed single off the record, “Red Shoulder”. It’s also one of the catchiest tracks on the record, despite the lack of a chorus. Fuzzy, soaring, and visceral, “Red Shoulder”’s structure mirrors this recurring theme of rootlessness. Without a chorus, there isn’t a traditional component you could point to as the anchor of the track - at least, not in the lyrical sense. Instead, we find it sonically. Williams finishes the track with a guitar solo that brings back a growling riff repeated throughout the song. Between the riff and the solo, it’s Williams’ grungy guitar that serves as our touchpoint, as it desperately attempts to create familiar and solid ground to process the track’s story of heartbreak and instability.
The sense of restlessness and transience established between these two tracks alone is what sets the tone for the rest of the record. She dives deeper into these themes and explores the temporary nature of all things (relationships, friendships, hobbies, home, etc.), hopelessly ruminating on “Streetlight Blues”: “Bugs in the streetlight / Our time is over soon”.
Despite most tracks clocking in under three minutes, many of Williams’s songs can be described as expansive. Colored by gloomy and haunting melodies, Williams effortlessly floats between bluesy folk and indie rock. From the soaring vocals and build-up on tracks like the aforementioned “I-80,” “Slapback,” or “Honey, Oh Honey!,” to hushed and poetic fixtures like “Belly of the City” or “Seasonal Affective Disorder,” each track creates a space for you to sink into, surrounding you with a warm and swirling sense of catharsis and release.
Through listening to Williams’ own exploration and reflection on I Was Born Swimming, we’re invited to embark on our own misty night drive down memory lane. We’re encouraged to dig deep, feel all of the pain and joy and heartache, and ultimately allow ourselves to embrace the perpetual growing pains that come with being human.