Brazos - Grab Hold of What Floats
Indie jazz musings on revival.
By Quinn McClurg
The word on the street is that the entirety of Brazos’ newest album, “Grab Hold of What Floats,” was written over the course of three weeks. The common response on the street is, “Who is Brazos?” This is to be expected, as Brazos has not released any music in the last nine years; the album has received little attention since its release.
“Grab Hold of What Floats” is a slightly more laid-back release and is consistent with the band’s usual style, a sauntering intertwining of folk and indie with jazz undertones to gentle, philosophical exploration. The tracks “The Shining” and “Folded Wings Folded” stand out as the most curious and substantial, with stimulating lyrics such as: “A face made of faces, a name made of names / And love is a light that the dark can’t contain” and “I felt the essence of my friends / random shopkeepers and kids / I heard the laughter of your breath / On playgrounds and cafe decks.”
Initially, I was rather unfair to this album and its degree of easy-listening. When compared to previous releases, “Grab Hold of What Floats” lacks the painful novelty and naiveté of their first album, “Phosphorescent Blues,” and the triumphant rush of their second album, “Saltwater.” But this album feels like a flexing of old creative joints, a stirring from a matured sleep; it was not made to be a victory march but a relaxed stroll through a “transcendent groove,” an appreciative wonder for everyday things, a whimsy for life found in the face of fatigue.
I find it to be exactly what it needs to be.