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<\/p>\nIs there a state of mind more isolating than obsession? The inherent vicissitudes of a new relationship can truly only be understood by the people experiencing it, and even then, it\u2019s nearly impossible to comprehend the full story from within the eye of the storm. Misunderstandings are often frequent and boundaries are rarely explicit. It\u2019s excruciatingly easy to feel like you\u2019re all alone in the throes of obsession; maybe the biggest benefit of being there is that you probably don\u2019t have much to lose by just confessing exactly how you feel.<\/p>\n
Carla dal Forno\u2019s new album Confession, out this Friday, delineates her various stages of obsession in the face of what she describes as \u201ca friendship that became emotionally charged in an unexpected way.\u201d Within the past few years, the Melbourne native relocated to a small, quiet country town, and the stillness of her new environment gave those charged emotions oxygen to grow and, in some cases, become all consuming: \u201cLet\u2019s call it an obsession, I think about you most of the day,\u201d the art-pop musician sings playfully on the title track. As often as she\u2019s singing to the apple of her eye in these scenarios, Confession implies that dal Forno is enduring a psychosocial ordeal entirely her own, the music\u2019s slightly detached atmosphere as comforting as it is cutting.<\/p>\n
A lot of the record\u2019s insularity comes from the location in which it was recorded. The studio where dal Forno made Confession was located inside a \u201cpartially abandoned hospital\u201d \u2014 I\u2019d like to know what makes a hospital \u201cpartially abandoned\u201d \u2014 and you can hear all the stark space and transparency throughout the album, both in the abyssal reverb and in dal Forno\u2019s frank, coy delivery: \u201cYou will belong to me soon,\u201d she insists repeatedly in the sleek, minimal synth album opener \u201cGoing Out,\u201d as if she\u2019s following footprints throughout the empty hospital hallways. \u201cThere\u2019s no other way.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
It\u2019s a fitting start to Confession, because obsession at its strongest feels undeniably creepy \u2014 not just to the subject of it, but to those who, like dal Forno, are experiencing it. Part of what makes Confession striking is that she doesn\u2019t shy away from spotlighting her more unflattering moments: \u201cGoing Out\u201d admits to an off-limits infatuation with an audacious, nearly off-putting assertion of self-imposed entitlement. But she comes back to her senses a bit next on the bouncy \u201cConfession,\u201d where she divulges some borderline stalking \u2014 \u201cToday I saw you walking home, I wanted to pull over\u201d \u2014 before a feeble attempt to convince herself that she\u2019s OK with this other person not reciprocating her interest. \u201cNow I know that you were never more than a friend\/ And that\u2019s alright, I don\u2019t need you to explain,\u201d she adds in a crucial moment of clarity, her sharp emotional contrasts as apparently futile as the burgeoning romance itself.<\/p>\n
At its most poignant and evocative, Confession feels like listening to one side of a conversation where dal Forno loosely traces a relationship from its beginning to end. Each two songs are divided by substantial, wordless interludes that seemingly bookend time periods or stages. So after \u201cDrip Drop\u201d \u2014 a sweet, plunky synth number straight from Mort Garson\u2019s Plantasia playbook \u2014 comes the saccharine ballad \u201cUnder The Covers,\u201d which finds dal Forno in the mundane bliss of a steady partnership: \u201cWe both know that we\u2019re in luck\/ \u2018Cause not much changes and that\u2019s what we both want.\u201d \u201cNighttime,\u201d then, could pretty easily be misinterpreted as an ode to flirting at the club, but the way dal Forno sings it, the song instead conjures the unique sexiness of date night at home.<\/p>\n
But even the most steadfast partnerships aren\u2019t immune to doubt, as dal Forno illustrates on \u201cBlue Skies,\u201d a deceptively upbeat pop number in the vein of Broadcast: \u201cSo if you\u2019re vague again when it comes to us making plans\/ Then it\u2019s time for me to tell that I think this should end.\u201d Those sentiments feel more surefooted than woe-is-me, however, and \u201cI Go Back\u201d concedes this with some self-reflection over hypnotic dub instrumentals. It\u2019s a far cry from the dal Forno on \u201cGoing Out\u201d who insisted that being together was the only option, and it\u2019s both rewarding and affirming to hear her embrace both moods with equal fervor.<\/p>\n
Still, dal Forno\u2019s narrative on Confession \u2014 like most meaningful relationships \u2014 is far from linear. By the album\u2019s end the relationship has evidently run its course, and she copes by indulging in a covert rendezvous, as she tells it on \u201cAlone Tonight,\u201d or with some light resentment: \u201cNow that you\u2019re gone I notice again\/ What did you want that I had taken,\u201d she murmurs over a rare acoustic guitar on the Grouper-like \u201cGave You Up,\u201d one of the moments where that abandoned-hospital vacuity perhaps resonates the strongest.\u00a0
Confession closes with its final instrumental, \u201cStaying In,\u201d where a reverberating piano presses up against the sound of falling rain. It feels meditative and contemplative, an imitation of closure where there isn\u2019t any. Dal Forno doesn\u2019t try to reach any concrete resolutions on Confession, and doing so would be a disservice; maybe it\u2019s best to view relationships as ever-evolving cycles in their own right rather than a destination.<\/p>\n
Confession is out 4\/24 via Kallista.<\/p>\n
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Carla dal Forno – Confession [LP]<\/p>\n