Up Close with Gawshock
Alabama needs more homegrown lo-fi indie pop. More mellow bedroom wizards who aren’t afraid to roll the volume knob down and tease out textures that evoke some whimsy. Maybe some sadness, too.
Thankfully, Huntsville’s Dave Broome (aka Gawshock) has answered the call and filled the void with his new record Leaves to the Sun. It’s an album years in the making, and it’s likely to spark something in you (no matter how cynical you may be).
Broome describes the record as “a collection of my thoughts and feelings [between 2024-2026] - largely a celebration of the love in my life - but also a way of coping with some of the tougher things that’ve been thrown at me.”
“Brighter Hue,” the album opener, strikes the perfect tonal balance between celebration and coping, which is no easy feat. Instrumentally, it’s like a revved up version of Yo La Tengo’s score for Old Joy, dancing between new-day-optimism and that strange bummer feeling that emerges after too much time in the sun. The vocals echo Ira Kaplan, but I also catch respectful nods to Sparklehorse and Eels. Maybe a touch of early Youth Lagoon, too. It’s that up-close, nearly spitting-into-the-mic sound that few singers can really nail. When it’s done right, it can be captivating and fully solidify the emotional stakes of the song. When done wrong, it’s like an unwelcome stranger whispering into your ear on the sidewalk.
For Gawshock, the closeness works wonders and is captured with lo-fi production that brings vividness, warmth, and authenticity to the whole thing. This is particularly true for the first three tracks on the album (as well as the last three).
Unexpectedly, the middle portion of Leaves to the Sun shifts to a more polished place, beginning with “Grown Up.” It’s a little jarring. Although the arrangements and lyrical themes seem to be in sync with the rest of the record, the sonic sensibilities feel wholly upended. The tracks aren’t flawed per se, just distant from what makes the rest of the album so appealing. That might’ve been the intention, so I won’t belabor the point.
Thankfully, Gawshock brings us back to warm, lo-fi territory with “Fall.” It features all of the hallmarks of what makes the first third of the record so stellar: dialed back drums, intimate vocals, and self-aware melodies. By the end of the song, I was reinvested in the record and ready for any final surprises Broome had in store for me.
The penultimate track, “Cluck,” proved to be one of those surprises. It’s a concise instrumental piece, loaded with dust and percussive clock-ticking, letting you know, in a way, that the record is nearing its end. And, for me, the impending conclusion was a little sad and unwelcome. I felt bonded to the record – it’s mood, it’s closeness, the personal nature of it all. Then, I remembered: I can just start it over and experience it all again.
