I discovered Civil Twilight’s 2012 release Holy Weather right before I graduated from college, as a lucky addition to our college radio library. After graduation was a time of transitions and travel, and I spent the summer out on the east coast for a 6-week graduate prep course in the field of art history at Smith College. I happened to see Wye Oak at a local music venue, ventured out to see Young Magic in Williamsburg during our weekend in NYC, and happened upon the talented Darlingside in the college’s backyard one evening. But when we weren’t in class, traveling to museums, curating a show, or doing our homework, I mostly explored or went for runs around the beautiful town of Northampton, Massachusetts.
I strayed often to Holy Weather, which provides the ideal mix of beats and musicality for how I run, which is more like walk-jog-run in alternating spurts. It also provided upbeat and optimistic lyrics on a level that kept me going when it felt like my lungs were raw and legs wanted to drag. I can’t listen to “River” now without remembering leaving the dorm at the start of a run, and how “Fire Escape” got me into a confident jogging rhythm. Yet it was always walking back, at the end, listening to “Please Don’t Find Me” and “Doorway” that I appreciated Civil Twilight for something more. A heavy emotional weight hangs in those songs, a genuine and sweet desire for being alone or being with someone. That summer was an escape for so many things I’d dealt with for four years in undergrad, but those tunes reminded me that I wasn’t yet emotionally free from some of them.
Fast forward one year later, and I’m progressing in my life and career. Moved to Minneapolis, in my second job after a successful internship at an art museum, and falling quickly in love with someone I knew was falling for me, too. He was out of state for the summer in a graduate program, and we communicated online until his return in August. During July, while studying for the GRE and starting a new job, I fed my romantic feelings by listening to certain songs, and sending him some of them as mixes. Of course, I rediscovered “Doorway,” which unabashedly proclaims, “If you want this so bad, then why do you stand like you do in the doorway / come in / come in, I’ve never wanted anything like I want you.” I had stumbled upon the perfect soundtrack for the time of my romantic longing.
Then, two days before I took the GRE, he admitted he wanted to be back with his ex. It was a wound that inflicted a deep depression and a longstanding mistrust of trust and that special romantic feeling. There are many people I have to thank for helping me through that time, including many musicians who made the sounds that kept me from falling off the edge. But sadly, Civil Twilight wasn’t one of them. “Doorway” and the rest of their repertoire had been, I thought, forever spoiled. I was never going to truly enjoy romantic songs again.
Two years have now passed, gratefully, since that season. And sadly since, I’ve had few reasons to regain a sense of romanticism or earnest interest in dating. Yet somehow, I haven’t completely given up. So when Civil Twilight released Story of an Immigrant this summer, it was a blast from the past. I thought first of the unbridled joy of running, of the east coast, and my all-time favorite summer and the people I dearly miss three years later. But then came the memory of deceit, of failure, of unfulfilled promises. Finally, however, came curiosity, about what Civil Twilight is up to these days, and if this album is as good as the last.
Not only did I find Story of an Immigrant much to my liking, I saw they were coming to town – to Saint Paul on the last day of July. As they are originally from South Africa, I assumed I’d never get the chance to see them, and I found myself unable to resist. I showed up alone, got a drink, and waited patiently for them to come on stage. I was ecstatic that there was such a big crowd at Turf Club, bigger than I’ve seen in months, and on just a Friday night. That so many other people loved Civil Twilight was filling my heart on top of what listening to the new album had already done.
To be honest, I know they played many of their new songs, which I now love, but the only one I needed to hear was “Doorway.” As I waited for my turn, I noticed how spot on bassist and lead singer Steven McKellar’s vocals were, just as rich and vibrant as on the albums. They are such a tight group, with strong stage charisma and love for performing their music. McKellar at one point said something like, “this next one’s a love ballad,” and I realized it could be almost any of their songs. Whether somewhat religious leaning or a declaration of romantic love, none of Civil Twilight’s songs are without meaning, without feeling, without emotional purpose. A match made in heaven of lyrics, melodies, and beats, these four gentlemen have mastered modern indie rock with a beating heart involved. And this latest release, Story of an Immigrant, is the best their hearts and minds have yet produced.
So when “Doorway” started, everything else faded away. It was just me and Civil Twilight, a world away from two or even three years ago, when I first fell in love with them and with the world I experienced them in. And though there are no guarantees, I realized in a way, I’d made it. After the show, I was headed home to a young man, who I’d been seeing for a few weeks, and had this certain good feeling about. Listening to Civil Twilight in that context made all the difference. I reclaimed them, their music, and the feeling of falling for a song or a person.
Civil Twilight is that group who can write blatant gorgeous indie rock love songs, and it works, and is so utterly worth it. My new favorite is “Love Was All That Mattered,” which I’ve listened to numerous times late at night, basking in the glow of uninterrupted feeling it provides. They aren’t shy about being emotional, and I love them for it. They don’t need to mask their desire in cryptic lyrics or synthesized software, and their version of “Let It Go” is better than anything Disney could conjure. The lyric-less “ooo”s at the end of “All My Clothes” all but say “come back, it’s okay to fall in love,” while in “Only For A Time” they admit feelings are valid, no matter how long they last.
I could continue on about Civil Twilight’s compositional mastery, or how this moment and that moment in Story of an Immigrant move me, but I’d rather you discover it for yourself. I’d rather you finish reading this and get yourself a drink, go to a room alone, and listen to the album straight through. It doesn’t matter where you are in your life, or how battered your views on romantic love are: Civil Twilight is there for you, to say “have faith.” I, myself, have had such a hard time after all these years of being vulnerable and emotional or romantic these days, but with the help of Civil Twilight’s latest album and this young man I’m still spending all my time with, maybe I’ll find my way back yet.