by David Wilikofsky
“Bugging,” a song that comes towards the middle of Philadelphia musician Michael Cormier’s latest album More Light!!, hit me hard. Cormier is sitting in his backyard, idly texting friends and scrolling on his phone. He looks up to see his dog intently watching a squirrel on a nearby tree branch, only to wonder if he ever feels anything with the same intensity of his dog in that moment. Have our screens dulled our emotions? I certainly think they have, and this small revelation cut deep. These are the kinds of moments that populate More Light!!: ones that seem mundane on the surface but are so carefully observed that they spring to life or illuminate some deeper truth.
Credit for the music’s power is certainly due to Cormier’s writing, where turns of phrase can build entire worlds. “Control,” a song about the psychic toll of being unable to give up the titular subject, compares the situation to “a pant leg caught in an escalator / The more I pull, I’m only pulled down deeper“; the karaoke party of “Last Hurrah” sounds like a blast until we hear “Somebody’s finger drew a line in the cake / everyone’s hungry but we’ve all gotta wait.” But the musical backing itself also subtly contributes. In the final half of “Control”, the backing track oscillates between static and serene bird chirps; echoing the lyrics, it’s almost as if the song itself can’t give in to the chaos. As Cormier sings “more light” on the titular track, the gentle lilt of the backing track almost sounds like lights flashing on and off in the dark. Though the backing tracks may not always be as front and center as his words, they’re always working in harmony with one another.
Although the subject matter can feel dark, there’s still a light that pervades the album. Cormier refers to the project as an “open collaboration,” and that spirit is what imbues the album with its warmth. Cormier has built real life musical communities in many ways, from playing in Philly DIY staples Friendship and Hour to co-running the record label Dear Life Records, and that sense of community is palpable. Perhaps it’s most noticeable at the end of “Last Hurrah,” which features distorted cellphone recordings of Cormier’s friends singing a cappella karaoke songs, but almost every track features contributions from friends (from producer Lucas Knapp and Cormier’s bandmates in Friendship to fellow musicians like Wendy Eisenberg, Lina Tullgren and Lou Turner). This could easily become a too many cooks situation, but there’s never a note that feels out of place; although each contributor is given space to put their mark on a track, the dreamy, country tinged atmosphere of the music never feels punctured or overstuffed.
On the album’s opening song, “Degregation”, Cormier sings about the magic of getting up to new possibilities each morning, so that “waking up becomes an act of pure creation.” It’s a phrase that continues to loom large over the album in my mind, almost it’s raison d’être. It’s music that builds and illuminates inner worlds, but also encompasses the sounds of a musical community that Cormier has built around himself. It’s music that’s capable of warming your heart one minute and breaking it the next. It’ll do both if you give it a chance.