Westerman’s music is not a huge artistic statement, it’s not an obtuse philosophical analysis, it doesn’t ‘try’: it’s just honest.
Music is an acceptance of the uncontrollable, an acknowledgment of the undeniable, and the most beautifully honest means to communicate it all. We live for this sound; it requires no learning but cements memories, carving holes in our past that we cherish falling back into, making us wonder how at the time we never noticed their scale.
To try to ignore personal bias when talking about music, in my opinion, is futile. To give a fair well-rounded appreciation of what you deem to be ‘good’ is admirable. However, every now and then a piece of work comes along that shakes your foundations, blows a hole in your present, and leaves you stood at the edge of the crater, instantly aware of the sentimentality of the time. Instant investment, instant communication. Westerman’s debut LP is the most recent of these wonderful discoveries.
Your Hero Is Not Dead is woven with nostalgia, originality, sincerity and delicacy. It is a refreshing sonic force that displays a clear culmination of a movement from a more traditional guitar and vocals songwriter, to a musician with an immediately recognisable creative personality that is exciting to hear. Westerman has not been heard before. Intimacy is never sacrificed; it is not over produced, and with each track your predictions are subverted and rewarded. The sincere lyricism never prolongs metaphor, instead it shares clarity that you can hear as the result of deep reflection and conflict. In his own words, this music is about ‘struggle and release’, and upon the first listen this is evident.
There are opportunities for pure musical gratification being seized all over this album, but there is euphony in all of it.
Returning to my earlier statement about personal bias, it would be foolish to dismiss the events around which I first heard this album. I had just graduated from university, finding myself at the end of the road with little direction and a very deep urgency to figure it all out. In the backdrop of a pandemic, life’s uncertainty had internalised my thoughts until the days passed through me and my presence outside my own head began to feel irrelevant. This record was a solace and upon deciphering the intention behind each track, it became almost uncannily personal and spookily relevant to my efforts to gain some clarity. In all honesty, my love for it was immediate.
A detailed breakdown of the beauty I found in each track would be a wonderful indulgence, but hopefully personal highlights will suffice in overlaying the poignance in this work.
Melodically, each track displays great space, giving room for each moment to express itself. Whether due to the succinct single coil outcries of rhythmic guitar from a vintage Fender Muscimaster (a sound that is fast becoming Westerman’s signature tone), the roaring synths, the delicate keys, the warming bass, or even the post-productive detail provided by Bullion. There are opportunities for pure musical gratification being seized all over this album, but there is euphony in all of it. The subtle details ensure that each frame rarely repeats itself identically, whilst an erudite simplicity prevents the soul of each musical expression from ever being buried.
The sweeping opening of “Waiting On Design” leaves me wounded, lying on a hill overlooking the city lights that flicker and mirror the night sky, observing the movements of thousands of lives. The pulsing, breathing, almost “Every Breath You Take” inspired, muted guitar notes that arpeggiate the chord changes and underpin the warm melodies of “Blue Comanche” make me feel the summer sun before it descends into dusk, turning away from the breeze as evening falls.
Your Hero is Not Dead makes me think of those I love and the occasions when I was not as in the moment as I should’ve been, or not entirely grateful for all the life I’m surrounded by, as I obscured my own vision. However, the important things were never gone, and the title track leaves you hopeful they never will be; it encompasses the message of encouragement this record is wholly trying to convey “I want to tell you I love you”!
Upon researching Westerman’s own inspiration for each track, you realise that the feelings he communicates are no coincidence. Emotions of being are overwhelmed by societal changes in “The Line”; concepts of wealth, consequence and causality behind “Big Nothing Glow” and “Easy Money”. The latter is in fact the result of when Westerman encountered an old friend who is now homeless, whilst the former addresses blindness towards the influence of wealth and privilege. And of course, there is the almost ironic mental exploration of indecision, ennui and banality behind the pounding breakthrough "Confirmation". This song’s timeless themes of creative frustration are delivered with a driving riff, subtle complexity, and dynamic chord structures that move so organically that they appear as an affirmation of the artists closure: “don’t you wonder why, confirmations easier, when you don’t think so much about it?”
Westerman’s work is just hopeful: it is original and beautiful, it stays with you and is instantly relatable, leaving you grateful you’re not alone when life loses clarity.
I believe that the true heart of this record, however, is summarised in the acoustic refrain of the penultimate track “Float Over”: ‘don’t be afraid to take it as it is, and let it float over’. This simple message, within a melody of calm acceptance, lifted my spirits and settled my mind. Westerman’s music is not a huge artistic statement, it’s not an obtuse philosophical analysis, it doesn’t ‘try’: it’s just honest. By no means does it reach perfection or avoid occasions when certain aspects of the production could be clearer, or musical ideas expanded. But that is irrelevant when considering what it offers, and you’d truly be missing the point if you actively searched for negatives.
Perfection is not human, and in all honesty, I wouldn’t change a single thing about Westerman’s album. Westerman present a refreshing perspective, a simple expression of personal conflict and acceptance. He focuses on the overwhelming movement of life, looking for answers (but understanding its ok if you have them and ok if you don’t), and on appreciation. Westerman’s work is just hopeful: it is original and beautiful, it stays with you and is instantly relatable, leaving you grateful you’re not alone when life loses clarity. It is authentically human, sonically epic, lyrically elegant, and just wonderfully new. It’s a moment of clarity I will always remember. He should feel truly proud, and I’m glad that he’s around. by Henri Ezard