Logan Pilcher – Most Days (I’m Trapped In My Bedroom Dreaming of a World I Don’t Know)

An album that starts with a song titled “After October” feels oddly present-tense; though the song was surely written months or years ago, at least for the moment, we’re placed in the shoes of Logan Pilcher himself, watching the skies darken, days shorten, and leaves fall. Autumn is a proper picture of this album – a transitory state of looking forward.

The first three tracks of Pilcher’s latest album form a musical hat trick. “After October” sets the mood, albeit with hints of lament. “I Just Don’t” is a bit more upbeat, a cognitive reconciling of relational disparities – perhaps my favorite song on the album. “Infinite Sunshine” leans more into more blatant indie pop inspiration in the likes of The 1975. Pilcher doesn’t downplay the challenges of life, but he’s not selling invitations to a pity party. He’s striving to move forward with hope and purpose. Some of the sentiments are a bit cheesy, but the arrangements and delivery certainly compensate.

And if that was all Pilcher had, some brand of intelligent indie pop with hints of folk and alternative, it’d be more than enough. But this songwriter isn’t content to rest in myopia. “Youngblood” opts for a Sufjan Stevens-adjacent mix of falsetto and orchestral strings. It’s a bit of a slow burn, but it works. It’s the kind of track you’d expect to see on a drama or film.

And not everything is so introspective, either – “Other Than War” speaks to tension and division, which is certainly timely. Democracy thrives off open discourse, but there are plenty of instances where things are less than civil. And even in this respect, Pilcher is looking forward with longing.

“Lost In Translation” ends on a similar note to where the album began – trying to make sense of interpersonal communication fraught with mixed signs. But even this problem is not a deep enough hole to keep Pilcher confined, and he shows confident assurance that all of this will fade eventually.

The past two years have been undeniably challenging, and the resounding external (and often internal) rhetoric is that of all hope being lost. It’s hard to feel that things can get better. It’s hard to not become bound by our insecurities and failings. But Pilcher shows us a way of hope – maybe misplaced, maybe not. But he fixates on the world he wants to see, not the world that was or even the world that is. Most Days encapsulates all of this in a mid 2010s brand of indie lined with captivating lyrical sentiments.

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