Almost Always Overwhelmed
After decades of writing and recording songs that span the worlds of anti-folk, pop, psychedelia, and general introspection, Henning Ohlenbusch now presents Almost Always Overwhelmed, a full-length album both refreshing and familiar, a return to form from one of indie music’s strangely unknown and quietly bemused songwriters.
For years, in an orange-leafed little corner of Western Massachusetts, Henning has been crafting a personal catalog of music both under his own name and with his band Gentle Hen (previously School for the Dead). His albums have long been celebrated by those in the know for their personal and insightful spirit. Will the rest of the world catch up now after this collection? Probably not.
While his last few releases followed unified themes and moods, Almost Always Overwhelmed plays like a carefully sequenced mixtape where shifting styles are bound together by Henning’s friendly familiar voice, full of empathy and a wry sense of wonder. The title, Ohlenbusch explains, came from a lyric that seemed to sum things up: “That’s you / that’s me / almost always overwhelmed / by anything / by everything / we see.”
“I love an album that follows a cohesive mood or sound. But I also love albums that are all over the place. I grew up on the White Album and Nilsson Schmilsson and that’s how I used to make records. Each song is its own person and they should act however they want.”
This is certainly true on Almost Always Overwhelmed. Note for example the finger-pick plaintive singer/songwriterly That’s Where We Belong and Different Pillows Hold Different Dreams or the synth pop sounds of Fairytale in Reverse and Homesick at Home or the 13 minute long psychedelic dream-dirge of We Are All Around You. All ten songs exist on their own and also fit in perfectly with the others. A family, comfortable together but Almost Always Overwhelmed.
For years, in an orange-leafed little corner of Western Massachusetts, Henning has been crafting a personal catalog of music both under his own name and with his band Gentle Hen (previously School for the Dead). His albums have long been celebrated by those in the know for their personal and insightful spirit. Will the rest of the world catch up now after this collection? Probably not.
While his last few releases followed unified themes and moods, Almost Always Overwhelmed plays like a carefully sequenced mixtape where shifting styles are bound together by Henning’s friendly familiar voice, full of empathy and a wry sense of wonder. The title, Ohlenbusch explains, came from a lyric that seemed to sum things up: “That’s you / that’s me / almost always overwhelmed / by anything / by everything / we see.”
“I love an album that follows a cohesive mood or sound. But I also love albums that are all over the place. I grew up on the White Album and Nilsson Schmilsson and that’s how I used to make records. Each song is its own person and they should act however they want.”
This is certainly true on Almost Always Overwhelmed. Note for example the finger-pick plaintive singer/songwriterly That’s Where We Belong and Different Pillows Hold Different Dreams or the synth pop sounds of Fairytale in Reverse and Homesick at Home or the 13 minute long psychedelic dream-dirge of We Are All Around You. All ten songs exist on their own and also fit in perfectly with the others. A family, comfortable together but Almost Always Overwhelmed.
The Dream is to Dream
The Dream is to Dream is a dreamy journey into life over the past few years. Disillusionment in the way the world works and with those around us leading to questions about what is important, what is worth keeping, how do we live? A celebration of the natural world, the consistency of the seasons, those moments and people that we hold dear. This is wandering music, three instrumental dreams anchor the rest of the songs which float atop howling and sliding lap steel guitar. The songs are their own people but the album is the family. Meet one at a time or hang out with all of them at once. It's not a movie, but it's almost a movie. There's an arc. A beginning and an end. We start off questioning where we are going and we end up where we started. At home.
I Want to Memorize Everything
About the I Want to Memorize Everything
For years I've wanted to make a spare acoustic record. I've tried a number of times but because I am so enamored with the process of adding-more-stuff, I've always failed. Even back when I used to record everything with a cassette 4-track, I always had to bounce bounce bounce (that means add more tracks). My musical brain formed while listening intently to psychedelic, prog, new-wave, jangle rock, and singer-songwriter folk. It's very difficult to limit myself in the studio. But I managed to keep it all under 8 tracks with most songs having fewer.
I Want to Memorize Everything is nine songs long. It lasts about a half hour, just like the old Simon and Garfunkel albums that I memorized decades ago. It's my most vulnerable album. Because the instrumentation is limited, there is no place for my voice or my lyrics to hide. They're right out there for you to pick apart.
I think of it as a late autumn album, but I don’t know exactly why. A lot of music sounds like late autumn to me. Maybe it’s because I’ve always lived in New England where October bursts into colors and then November dulls everything into a grey and brown smudge, with pointy tree branches against cloudy skies. And that’s when we move inwards. Everybody starts drinking tea and writing novels about pilgrims, and listening to music that sounds like cracking pond-ice and crock pots.
I don’t want to go into detail explaining what each song is about. The interpretations are yours. I’m just so happy that you’re listening. Thank you.
-Henning
I Want to Memorize Everything is nine songs long. It lasts about a half hour, just like the old Simon and Garfunkel albums that I memorized decades ago. It's my most vulnerable album. Because the instrumentation is limited, there is no place for my voice or my lyrics to hide. They're right out there for you to pick apart.
I think of it as a late autumn album, but I don’t know exactly why. A lot of music sounds like late autumn to me. Maybe it’s because I’ve always lived in New England where October bursts into colors and then November dulls everything into a grey and brown smudge, with pointy tree branches against cloudy skies. And that’s when we move inwards. Everybody starts drinking tea and writing novels about pilgrims, and listening to music that sounds like cracking pond-ice and crock pots.
I don’t want to go into detail explaining what each song is about. The interpretations are yours. I’m just so happy that you’re listening. Thank you.
-Henning
