by Lydia Pudzianowski (@doritoshangover)
Babehoven’s Maya Bon has always said that songwriting helps her “process the struggles of daily existence, of familial trauma, of the processes of letting go.” That description feels especially apt for her latest EP, Yellow has a pretty good reputation, which finds Bon like many of us right now: utterly lost in her life as one day bleeds into the next while trying to ground herself, which sometimes gets quite difficult.
On early Babehoven EPs Sleep and SOLEMNIS, Bon, then based in Portland, Oregon, was backed by a band. After moving to Los Angeles, she began releasing music with sound artist and producer Ryan Albert. Late in 2019, the two moved from LA to Vermont, where they’ve spent quarantine writing and recording new material, including Yellow. The three songs on the album are a departure from the Babehoven we know. We’re used to Bon’s lyrics being front and center, her vocals clear as a bell. Here, things are a little more robotic, a little more detached. On “Dissociative Tally,” Bon describes “living in a fog land,” asking, “Do you ever watch yourself walk around in a dream?” The music is mostly electronic, relying largely on synthesizers, and Bon’s vocals are deepend and heavily processed. We can hear an acoustic guitar being strummed by someone using what sounds like the last reserves of their energy. There’s a person in there, but she’s weighed down by something heavier than usual.
It would be easy to attribute Yellow’s alienated mood to the pandemic, but Bon has made it clear that she wrote it while processing something personal, calling it “a literal depiction of grief and loss.” On EP closer “Dorian,” she sings about her brother: “No one ever recognized that you needed help … You poured yourself into your obsessions / First it was trains, then the Civil War / Basketball and sports, practicing the guitar.” The song ends with a distorted version of Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata—something familiar that takes a moment to place correctly as it folds itself into layers that eventually melt away. It’s an appropriate way to end Yellow, which is an expert representation of what it feels like to spend more time with yourself than you ever have. It’s a fairly devastating thirteen minutes, but it’s also honest, generous, and lovely. There’s still the slightest glimmer of hope in the sheer humanity of Yellow, a light at the end of the tunnel which very well may be a mirage, but the only way to find out is to forge ahead. We’re lucky to have Bon to guide us.