By offering up his own interior narrative, Bazan holds a mirror to the self-mythologizing we all do in retracing our own steps. To write Phoenix, Bazan spent time in the namesake city; the soaring “My Phoenix” is the kind of anthem that will resonate with anyone who’s left his or her hometown, then returned for holidays, births or funerals. The whole thing clashes and clamors, but a sentimental tug remains, even as that sense of connection and belonging diminishes over time.
There’s bound to be baggage when you go back to a place — both emotionally and geographically — from your past. For both longtime followers and Bazan himself, the record serves as an opportunity, a chance to revisit a place and assess what, in retrospect, has shaped its creator. Phoenix is an unflinching invitation to Bazan’s own personal reckoning. He’s still analyzing the motivations, decisions and actions that have come to define his own history, but in recasting his origin story, he’s also offering the audience an open door.
I cannot get enough of David Bazan’s new album. It’s deep and wide sonically as well as in meaning. Bazan is firing on all cylinders, it’s like he’s tapped into something that has re-energized him. I’m particularly drawn to Quietest Friend where he sings the lines, “I traded my inner wisdom for a jury of my peers.” This has been ringing in my ears since I first heard it. Thank you, David for this album.