by Giliann Karon (@lethalrejection)
On Some Kind of Heaven, knitting uses their first full-length album to ruminate on adolescence, queer identity, and feeling out of place over sludgy distortion and breathy vocals. The quartet of Montreal newcomers presents a master class in slacker rock with introspective lyrics that pose more questions than answers. Singer Mischa Dempsey doesn’t solve any of their existential problems but finds solace in naming the individual and collective alienation.
By channeling familiar fuzzy 90s alt-rock, knitting creates a dense and universal sonic palette. Dempsey wrestles with self-doubt, longing, and growth while using gloomy instrumentals to create feelings of uneasiness. “Family Tree” highlights this tension best. Innocent vignettes of childhood juxtapose the realization that time will pass anyway. “You let it all sink in/let it settle under your skin/that you’ll never be that small again/that you’re wanting for what no longer exists,” they deliver in an ominous gurgle.
“College Rock #1” memorializes slices of life from young adulthood. Instead of lamenting the days gone by, they find peace in surrendering to it. Quips like “Homesick is a kind of home” bemoan the dwindling days of summer. There’s no end to the chores and anxiety. Homework turns into professional assignments. Laundry continues to pile up, and dust still accumulates on countertops, no matter how many times you wipe them down. Still, they discover glimmers of hope between each life transition, providing opportunities to better themselves and begin again.
Both calming and nerve-wracking, Dempsey’s whisper lands softly on a bed of raw guitar and swelling drums. They’re at ease with themselves and in tune with each other. Some Kind of Heaven is an ambitious debut that lands knitting a comfortable place within a rejuvenated shoegaze ecosystem.