by Taylor Ruckle (@TaylorRuckle)
Along with its catchy classic rock melodies, the sophomore record from Slight Of - the project of New York indie rocker Jim Hill - sets itself apart in its outward-looking stance. That said, Other People’s lyrics may be character-driven, but what makes it such an interesting study isn’t necessarily the subjects. In a lot of ways, it’s the setting. Actually, it can be hard to disentangle the two, as on the deceptively bubbly opening track “The Sims,” named for the classic video game. Hill uses the game as a link to a lost childhood innocence, but it also evokes an individualized world where you have full control of your circumstances, a world that most of us don’t live in, but one that has a lot in common with the idealized construct of the suburbs.
Other People, on the other hand, finds its population in the gritty run-downness of the real. Outside the computer screen, Hill dwells on rusting tools and molding couches - images of unfulfilled potential and mundane decay - and in doing so, threads a crucial needle. In this album-shaped virtual dollhouse, Hill doesn’t engage in idyllic wish-fulfilment or exploitative melodrama, but shrewdly uses suburban and post-industrial landscapes to parallel down-to-earth human struggles. See also “Americana,” with its haze of harmony, where a narrator who’s lost their grip on the American Dream (and, more urgently, the steering wheel of their car) looks out on a paved-over backyard, space sold out for a promised return that never came. Or “Winter’s Maze,” where one party in an abusive relationship reflects on a time before the old creek bed was irreparably changed by the building of the local mall.
The closest Hill gets to the realm of pulp is “Sweet Caroline,” sung by a narrator whose partner makes their living in sex work. Far from sensationalizing, as rock has been known to do, Hill keeps things grounded in everyday familial life, the narrator waits outside with Caroline’s daughter in the car, looking forward to the day they can paint her bedroom. “I told my mom we don't say 'whore' / But she still won't let us spend the night,” Hill sings at one point, again pushing up against a suburban mold that fails to account for the truth of the human condition. These aren’t Lou Reed’s Caroline and Jim, doomed to a climax of violence and death - for Hill’s characters, this is just the way life is, and it just goes on.
I tend to think of empathetic songwriting as a lyrical project, but Other People also impresses with its arrangements. Hill took a similar outward approach to the recording process, featuring a larger cast of players (with a lot more input) than the first Slight Of record to craft this particular blend of synth pop and heartland rock. With everything from fuzzy guitar licks to woozy synth arpeggios to heady organ pads, they imbue Hill’s characters with straining heart, beleaguered imagination, even the lightheaded buzz of their chosen substances. If you’re curious about how these songs would sound as straight-up piano ballads, you can check out Hill’s Live at Porcelain set on YouTube. Check it out anyway, it’s an outstanding performance, but there’s something special in the multilayered, bittersweet album renditions.