Owen Youngs Doesn't Waver On 'Unwavering Light'

There are some artists out there who I root for. They’re not my friends or close acquaintances, but I would probably still defend their (artistic) legacy tooth and nail if that’s what it came to. These artists are usually lower on the totem pole—occasionally I find myself a cheerleader for a big league artist such as Wilco, but mostly I keep to the minors—especially those who live (or seem to in my mind) under the unpleasant, looming shadow of reality: Should I give up the dream and be a normal person? Should I get a full-time job and play only on the weekends? Should I stop being an artist?!

I’m projecting, of course, but the whole relationship I have with these people consists entirely of projection. It’s truly a one-way street—me, alone in my room, putting a hand in the air and saying, “High five, Nate [Ruess]! That last fun. record is epic!” (This happened last week.) Anyways, one of those artists is Jenny Owen Youngs, a singer-songwriter from New Jersey. Youngs sports Amber Rubarth’s sensitive humor, but with a darker, more aggressive flavor. With the release of her recent album An Unwavering Band Of Light, Youngs takes a big step away from the coffeehouse stage. Indeed, this record makes her sound like she belongs less on the Brooklyn folk scene and more fronting a sporty Rilo Kiley-inspired indie band.

Her record, coming off the heels of last year’s random single “Great Big Plans,” goes for an even better and bigger sound. Although “Great Big Plans” made strides towards a larger sound, Greg Laswell’s production left the song trapped in a kind of feeble middle ground; Youngs didn’t sound comfortable in the more rocky territory. But on An Unwavering Band Of Light, Owens has fully blossomed into what I’ll vaguely term ‘Jenny-Lewis-territory.’

Pausing before the praise I’m about to drop about this album, I’ll look back to my first listen through it and my extraordinary anxiety—being a Youngs-cheerleader. I’ll admit that I was worried halfway through the album. By the time I got to “Why You Fall”—roughly the half-point of the album—I breathed a sigh of relief. Prior to that point, I was playing very much the part of the anxious parent on the sidelines of a child’s soccer game, but after that track, I settled in for the rest of the album; her team was ahead by a few goals and would win. They might let in a goal or two…but they would win at the end.

Ever cheerleading, I silently gave her a nod of respect as I sat at my desk. And thankfully, unlike so many lesser-known singer-songwriters, Owens doesn’t frontload the album with the best tunes. Not that there are any tunes on here really worth ignoring; the only weak spots on the album are “Sleep Machine” and “Two By Two,” which, frankly, are still in rotation as I play through album. That said, I could not help but think that the darkness at the core of “Two By Two” has a genuine chance of expanding into something as darkly frightening and pulsating as something off The National’s album Boxer. Not that Owens has crafted a Boxer here—but hopefully she is on her way to that kind of payoff.