Sarah Kinsley Creates A Whirling Celestial Realm in Debut Album “Escaper” — In Depth Review / Analysis
We are face to face with an indie alt-pop debut album of the ages, and my, my, my…
When you feel like the world around you is falling into chaos or ripping apart at the seams (for the nth time), what’s your preferred method of escapism?
Throughout the range of less harmful to dangerously damaging coping mechanisms, music tends to universally be one of the highly favored substances of choice to make the world outside our vicinity fall away. Luckily, when it comes to a state of indulgent reverie, there’s no current musical artist who wears its honorable crest more proudly than the name of Sarah Kinsley.
Ever since I personally discovered Kinsley’s music last year, she very quickly became one of my most adored artists. From the earliest trickles of singles to a small handful of EPs that showcase a smoothly evolved polishing of her artistry, the young multi-talented singer, songwriter, instrumentalist, AND producer has already created a one-of-a-kind euphoric musical universe. Her insightfully sensible and tender songwriting paired with the tendency for dreamy compositions featuring graceful piano lines, symphonic strings, ethereal and danceable 80s synth sets, plus her intoxicatingly divine vocals all come together to create an innovative signature alt-pop blend that is ever-so refreshing in the current pop landscape.
After a steady journey of artistic maturation through the last few years, Kinsley’s official debut album Escaper was released on September 6th, 2024. From the exhilarating lead single “Last Time We Never Meet Again,” the official release of the beloved teased track “Starling” as the warmhearted second single, and the transcendent “Realms” as the final single before the album release, it was clear that this project was building up to certainly be her best yet. As a genuine fan of hers, I can confidently say that if you want to know who Sarah Kinsley is, this is the best place to start.
Escaper is a living, breathing, dying, and dancing collection of sonorous tracks that entrance your entire mind, heart, body, and soul. As you become possessed by the current of her own celestial whimsy, you prance by the beat of the resonant drums, bask in gliding droplets of piano, are whisked away by the winds of the exalted strings and float on the surface of ambient cosmic synth pads. While splendidly chambered in this mystifying realm, Kinsley guides you through all of her indulgent ascensions and sinking depths of distress.
“Last Time We Never Meet Again”
There could not have been a better choice than “Last Time We Never Meet Again” as both the lead single and opener for the album. The infectious high energy track has all the classic feel good elements of a modern pop song — invigorating 80s drums, a resounding synth pad, and charming melodies — while also giving you a healthy serving of dynamic Kinsley-isms through the euphoric touches of glimmering synths, stirring strings, and her silvery vocals. Only from the opening verse, the song’s dynamic dual use of the strings both rhythmically and melodiously are showcased; we can clearly hear the more rhythmic, arpeggiated strings pattern that so naturally melds into the rest of the production throughout, but then there’s also a separate layer of silkier lines of strings to add some wistful depth.
As we move in further into the verses that air out the last bitterness lingering on her tongue, the zestful buzz of the synth pad creates an exciting new place to explore and the backbone of the strong drums thump with the weight of heavy footsteps that reverberate enough to manage frolicking through fields regardless. The following airy pre chorus with those aforementioned silky strings, wispy small glimmers of synth, plus her echoey ‘ooh’s feel like the wind softly whistling past your ears as she basks in this newfound mental weightlessness. All the production elements gloriously band together in an exhilarating climax for the free-range chorus that boasts total emotional freedom.
The brief second verse takes a moment to catch up on the adrenaline as the bumbling bass line takes center like the continuous pumping of blood in her veins; she declares her personal manifesto regarding how she will generously carry on, with her own airy echoes backing her up — featuring my favorite lyrics that I am ALWAYS thinking about:
“I hope you get everything you wanted / I hope the universe bends down to offer itself to you / But for myself / I hope I hear your name and I feel absolutely nothing / let me be free of you”
From this point on, but really for the entire duration of the song, it’s an everlasting addictive rush that’ll have you darting across the opposite ends of the highest hill tops. As a hell of an assured opening message, she cherishes the moments had between themselves — but only as she finally closes the door and deeply breathes in the fresh air on the other side of it.
Realms
“Realms” is such an entrancingly breathtaking track of its own, but it also happens to act as a great transition point from the beating high energy opener slowly into the more open world of winding majestic chords. The song opens like a puff of air, then the intro punches in with the song’s motif of the disruptive riff — a smooth hum of a deep soothing bass lays underneath the repeated triplets of bold, decisive bashes from the stack of the drum hits, piano keys, and strings; the turbulent and perplexingly emotive riff is undoubtedly the highlight of the whole song. I also love how once we’re inside the song, she adds a songful soaring strand of strings overtop and later mimics that elongation gorgeously with her own voice.
Almost as if that disturbance never happened, the subsequent first verse and chorus on the other hand keep it more relaxed in comparison with its piano line, lightly punchy drum line, and a touch of bass all cantering along — until that riff breaks out in between the sections. As she begins fascinatingly pondering about a painless and perfect realm — that must exist at least somewhere — she further lets herself be amused in desperate wonder with the chorus that still sways in that idyllic world; the carefree piano keys and the more prominent grit of the bass line dance on before the flourishing post-chorus of that motif instrumental break.
The second verse stealthily builds in loudness/intensity as the piano line quickly morphs into this warbly spacey synth whirling beneath it all. While she happily entertains her own denial through this musing, she panics for a moment about the actuality of these different supposed realities, wondering where the best case scenario can be found:
“Right to the edge and the end of time / What if this realm is all where you’re mine? / What if this is it for you and I? / What if this realm is the only world where we collide?”
This realization makes the final chorus sound even more desperate, with the mirroring soaring thread and mimicking vocals briefly meeting up at the last post-chorus before we spectacularly glide out.
“Glint”
With “Glint,” we are firmly inducted into the project’s illusive galaxy where any semblances of borders between reality and musings disintegrate. From the mere glint of this person that is left in her eyesight, that little light fuels her desperation more to power a dimension where they can thrive together — however, it can’t help but keep slipping through her fingers.
While the steadfast arpeggiated bass line, softly beaming spacey synth pad, and moderate drum set that make up the majority of the production are adequate enough, the songwriting and the post-chorus instrumental drop are what really gives the track its shine. The instrumental drop featuring the spacey glimmering synth keys that are almost flute-like with their tone, quickly climbing up and down in the arpeggiated pattern and the thunderous echo crash in between makes for such a captivating sonic combo; those glistening keys dance freely in the sky and the heavy — but not overbearing — deep weight of the thump creates a fascinating atmosphere of a thundering sky with quick flashing lightning rods and refreshing cold rain, perfectly fitting for the rousing illusionary freedom and heavy weight of despair when reminded of the lack of reality.
The opening verse to pre-chorus takes the ‘slowly but surely’ approach in gathering up energy, before the break out of the loose chorus that lets our feet be commanded by the beat of the drums. Counter to that first half of the song with some slack to it, the further momentum of the song is hard carried by the forward pulling gravity of the second verse and bridge’s vocal melodies that make the string of lines so hooking.
I love how the entire album can be summed up with the lines:
“Dream world tango, I can reach you in the dark / I am ignoring how it is and indulging what it was”
While the following lines from the rest of the second verse are one of my favorite displays of the wonderfully written imagery on this album:
“I dream of dancing with the dead / And we walk the cul-de-sac / We talk about the weather, November, and how I should know better than to ask you to come back”
I deeply enjoy how the lyrics keep going deeper into the fantasy as the melody reaches and runs all the way until her feet are right at the edge of the drop off. Taking that inertia and entering straight into the bridge, the high tension carries on for a bit. The bridge’s ingenious — “You say, ‘Sarah, bring me back’” — phrasing with the lightly shouted vocal layer on top is a small but really fun detail, and it only happens to exaggerate the need for it to be screamed out by a crowd (perhaps at her own concert with it being screamed right back in her face — funnily enough?). What makes it even better is how that high tension then cuts to the emptiness of that same line with the mere background synth pad for a juxtaposing false drop, which really highlights the sadness behind the pleading. But I also love how it then builds back up with compressed drums that keep clubbing from under, eventually reaching up to the surface — all up to the final chorus.
“Sublime”
In my mind, the following track “Sublime” goes hand in hand with the previously mentioned “Glint” — the synth pads, slight pitters of synth keys, and mid-tempo pace feel similar enough to be a natural continuation. While “Glint” is her fighting against her fantasies, here she fully submits to her bewilderment and dances almost celebratorily in her lunacy. Electrified humming of the synth pad, loud knocking drums, and Kinsely’s sonorous vocals fill the chorus as her spirit sings out — “Oh, life would be sublime / If I could forget you baby” — with a demented exuberance. Despite this, interestingly, the end of each verse that precedes that chorus is tinged with a hopeful optimism:
“There is light ahead, there has to be… / The moment’s fleeting, why not live despite the pain?”
The taunting wavered rhythm of the synth pads and dissonance of the frolicsome, overly happy-go-lucky melody with the pitiful lyrics create an odd, unnerving playfulness that actually matches the theme well; the ghostly whistling in the back of the second verse that mimics the main vocal melody also only adds to that feeling. (P.S. this live session of the track is a MUST listen)
“My Name is Dancing”
Starting from “My Name Is Dancing,” we move to what I personally call the second act of the album — from the formative playful openers to a handful of sullen-natured songs. She begins to further lean on her coping mechanism of mind traveling, but is now crumbling under the mass of her own sadistic desperation. Her pride is hollowed out, and what’s left is a forlorn scene of lying back on a cold floor and aching for the saving grace of what their love was. The sonic direction of this song flows from a starting wistful weariness with murmuring delicate synth chords and then so effortlessly the drums, piano chords, and bass guitar come in and steadily keep a solid but amplifying pace — to eventually even dreamier and hauntingly deeper into her winding mind as some ruminating parts of the instrumental crescent over. Her fragile voice beckons for a response to her pursuit, and the thought of it livens her as the rhythmic section picks up a steady thumping of her heart all the way to the chorus. The post chorus instrumental lifts us up before we are floating in the air with the signal-like chimes and fluttering synth keys.
The drum and bass focused following section adds a sandier shimmered-textured pad; it transitions at the end with the squeezed buzz of the guitar loudly on top to a busier mix with an emphasis on a series of unsettling pulses and louder vocals. For the final chorus, there’s a sudden ever-so noticeable rumbling — that feels like a sinking stomach about to drop — that comes from underneath, before the familiar post-chorus ambiance calmly fades out to the rhythm section for a clean close.
Even with the wandering dynamics, the track is consistent with its leisurely tempo throughout; the very loose song structure and the way it fluidly floats across time makes it feel like an interlude that exists between the boundless bridge of reality and imagination. I also want to note that throughout the modest production, I’d argue that the main attraction of the sound comes from all the detailed fluctuations of her voice throughout — the unique quivered performance of her voice is definitely the main instrument for this track. Even though its ending feels like a bit of a preemptive cut off, it only exemplifies how their time together felt similarly cut off; you can only dance together for so long before someone’s feet gets too sore to continue.
“Beautiful Things”
The humbleness of the lulling piano ballad “Beautiful Things” is not to be underestimated. While her signature grand soundscapes are exceptional platforms to convey the intensity of her emotions, the tracks in her discography that showcase the opposite end of the spectrum with a bare piano and refined voice (of course, tender lyrics included) are the purest testaments of her vulnerable artistry — “Beautiful Things” being no exception.
The production of this track lays out a beautifully simple foundation with its graceful piano instrumental and the accompanying gauzy reverb on both the piano and her voice, creating an incandescent glow in the soundly still night. Within a project where the narrator is so hell-bent on mangling the world around her in the name of preserving a love in the most pristine shape as possible, this song’s attentive focus on the details of the earthly nature in front of her makes for a much needed grounding experience. As she reminds herself of all the earthly treasures of things like rain, wind, and the moon, the observations wash a different kind of yearning over her — it’s a spiritually touching mix of gratitude and remembrance that immortalizes her lover’s existence and their memory together into these natural surroundings.
As she quietly feels through the range of emotions that encapsulate love, grief, humanity, and life, she lets herself sit still to intuitively listen to Mother Nature’s poised wisdom. (Rather than highlighting specific lyrics, please just read the whole thing in its glory like a full poem)
The combination of the lyrics and production are harmonious in painting the imagery to be so lifelike — I can very clearly envision the setting of her laid upon soiled ground with a small trickling stream by her side, deep in the forest, under a blackened night sky, singing softly to herself and to the moon under its moonlight, with the hum of cicadas and delicate streaming water droplets coexisting with her. Every element here is perfectly crafted to make for a serenely enlightening standout track.
“Barrel of Love”
From one standout to another, “Barrel of Love” is in STRONG running for the best song of the album; I just can’t help but get completely swept up in the whiplashing storm of the agony ridden wailing vocals, palpitating rhythm, and violent bashes of the heavy drums. The lyrics are riveting on their own, but again, the way it works in tandem with the song’s format of the production adding layers of intensity as it goes on, adding more depth and almost physical impact to the lyrics, makes for a chillingly monstrous outcome. Hinted at by the intriguing title itself, the entire song shapes itself around the emblem of a pointed gun as an allegory for a destructive love.
Initially, the sentimental mood from the previous song lingers on as this track opens with a gentle picked acoustic guitar line and cushioning piano following its melody just shortly after she starts singing with a lightly saddened, airy, but still rich tone; the whole first half of the song with this featherweight instrumental and confessions of disappointment amount to a delicately melancholic feeling. At the very trail end of the post-chorus, a subtle bass quietly slides underneath the piano chords, and then with a wave of a synth, the second verse ups the intensity with the force of the abrupt percussive down strokes of acoustic guitar, slammed piano chords, and bass drum coming down together, creating a startling feeling that practically warns of danger to come. It all builds up with the drum fill and background veil of an atmospheric synth pad as she sings out the echoing last word into the powerfully reimagined passages.
At this dividing midpoint, the incrementally increasing reverb has dug its way to the deepest chamber it could find and the all encompassing and overwhelming depth of everything, to a degree of sort of a purposefully muddy mix, signals that we’ve reached full intensity. The grungy bass, quietly-shielding ambient synth pad, and impactful drier thuds all meld into this beautiful chaotic mess that storms down over your soul, burying you deep down in some inescapable chamber, with Kinsley practically wailing for help to survive. The outro cools it all down to give the heart time to recover; the loud drums takes its time with slower hits, with traces of the piano piddling out.
What I particularly find so intriguing is how effectively the fixed lyrics of the pre-chorus, chorus, and post-chorus are used. The front half and second half of the song use the same exact lyrics (same melody as well), but the stark dynamic difference between the finespun start and the impassioned evolution is such a clever way to accentuate the depth of the lyrics — like a painter underpainting a canvas with two different colors, bringing out separate hues. Not to mention, the short second verse bridges the halves both thematically and sonically with its accelerating depth. Even without the influence of the production as well, the strong imagery in that chorus in particular really sticks out to me as some of the most memorable lyrics of the whole album:
“Your love is a heart but it’s aimed like a weapon / You’re taking your time to extract your mark / And how can I stand in / The barrel of, the barrel of your love?”
The clear scene of two people staring down the barrel of a gun from opposite ends, one mentally bracing for the pain they are about to inflict and the other physically bracing for it to strike evokes such a cinematic picture. Of course, being eventually matched with the production where the drums mimic a heaviness of physical pain like getting shot, or even those times when your heart feels like it weighs more than the rest of your body from its intense sadness is just another layer of vividness to the whole vision.
“Matter”
I really like the way “Matter” wraps up the — again, self proclaimed — more solemn, sobering second act of this project. It’s perhaps the most genuinely content song that, despite a few lines of disdain for her ex, has no wistful aftertaste. The song doesn’t reinvent the wheel, but the decisive declaration of moving on doesn’t need to be showy for anybody’s sake — we just need a moment to spin around with the new clear headed room we have. Still, it also happens to have another favorite set of lyrics:
“As a matter of fact / I’m doing better with your hands out / Of the knife in my back / I didn’t feel it in the midst of all the / Panic attacks”
While covered in bruises due to the intense previous track, this song is the perfect balm of optimism that comes through as a warm peak of a sun ray, rather than an artificial blinding bright light. It’s calm from the warm and friendly synths and filtered electric guitar strums, with its peaks of a lightly bubbly melody momentarily in between and upbeat drums that give me a similar feeling of a more nonchalant “The Last Time We Never Speak Again.” Towards the end, the synths swell up a bit — as if the light is getting brighter — before it simply dissipates as smoothly as it entered.
“There Was A Room”
“There Was A Room” is probably the most rhythmically interesting track of the record. The main riff of the rounded, muffled keys (which apparently comes from putting towels in her piano?) gives an interesting bouncy, lightly playful sound. The way this track builds with distinct sonic production for each section makes the start to end (but especially until the big chorus) naturally intriguing, prolonging a quirky and curious feeling. Although spacey synths are not new for this project, the application here makes it feel alien-like rather than ethereal?
The intro of just the main bouncy rhythm, then the sly casual introduction of the verse vocal melody through the synth pad feels like being dropped into an icy unfamiliar and enigmatic world or empty whitened room, and starting to cautiously look around to get a feel for your surroundings. The second verse adds in a new smacked snare and the mimicking synth pad back in, building up momentum. The pre-chorus promptly comes in and shifts into light percussive taps of a hastier rhythm with the muted main riff that appears like the echoes of its bounces, plus a shadowed low hum of a pad and recurring blinking swipes of synth that create a whimsy that keeps you on your toes, still unaware of where we’re further leerily headed.
Despite the somewhat timid nature up until now, the chorus finally opens up wide as the transitioning line — “And there was me” — rings out with a reverb level of a completely void, hard surfaced, high-ceiling room. The widening effect from the vocals, whirring warped bass-toned synth pad loudly wandering, and the sudden rhythmic action from the lively patters of percussion and fluorescent flickering synth feels like an omnipresent camera panning out from the scene of her trapped in this desolate room to reveal…herself trapped inside a room, inside a room, inside a room, inside an infinite loop of the same emptiness.
I like how the subsequent verse now takes all the percussion in to keep up the momentum, but it quickly moves onto the familiar though now final chorus, before the synths are freely flying in between each other as the percussion dances us out to a flickered close.
While I do find the production to be quite unique within the soundscape of the album and I enjoy the enlivening chorus, I feel that the rest of the song after the satisfaction of the first chorus lacks impact. It doesn’t help that the lyrical content of desperation for a love that ceased to exist comes across as a bit redundant this deep into the album.
“Knights”
The closing act of these last three tracks of the album are absolutely killer with their impact. “Knights” unleashes with three acts of its own, and very distinctly — both through the photographic lyrical passages and the paired production that’s practically its own character. Objectively, the writing on this track might just be her finest work on this album (or even in her discography).
The opening verse narrates for an unspoken individual that appears to be highly vouched for (by others or themselves), but cannot hold their inner wreckage together when faced with their own lone presence. The anonymous narrator turns it back to herself as she taunts like a ghost staring into the eyes of her ex’s limp body:
“And you see me, will you stop? Will you listen? / Don’t call me unforgiven’”
I absolutely love the fact that in a project where we see her incessant pining to be loved by this person again, the rose-colored glaze of her eyes has fully dissolved and she finally turns it around by exposing this person’s pathetic reality; she even goes to fortifying her detachment of this relationship in the following stanza by taking this album’s ever-present desire for kissing and flipping it from its symbol of desperation to numbness:
“It doesn’t make a difference if you start kissing me / No, it doesn’t make a difference if you stop kissing me / You might as well kill me”
This whole first act of an underlying feeling of intimate disappointment is mesmerizingly framed simply with the classic elements of her singing with her piano and classical swirling strings in the air around her to stir those emotions out. When she especially begins declaring, “You might as well kill me,” the section really hits a regret-ridden, wretched, stunningly haunting and heartrending sadness.
As soon as the signaling line, “…might as well empty me into the street” touches down, we pan to penned flashes of their messy past of hazy partying nights that did them no good; the strings and piano are pushed to the back and met with heart-thumping sporadic drums and erratic synths buzzing by your ears, all like a hungover brain trying to wrap their head around the dance beats and the flashing lights of last night.
“To the drinks and the free rides / To the lies and the party drugs / Face down in the kitchen rug / Wondering how to cut off my tongue / To the nights when we’re too young / Too dumb, too in love / To push the no out of our lungs”
As an instrumental transition to the last section, we catapult out of those messy flashbacks to a stable pumping pop beat of revelry as she joyfully celebrates that entire misadventure of a relationship over and completely stuck in the past. The glory of the jumping beat made to eagerly jump around to and the triumphant strings and shimmering synths breathes all the heart, soul, and life back into us (…and I desperately need to have this liquified into an IV bag and pumped into my veins at all times).
Not to mention, every line here in this ending passage of no longer settling for what’s perceived as bare minimum decency could not feel more soulfully resonant and glorious and the ideal words to shout out of liberation.
“To the gold age of pimping the weakest / You get a gold star if you know how to be decent / And here’s to the girl I was before I met you / Not a notch, or a flame, or a goddamn virtue / To the knights and the arms, they didn’t mean no harm / ’Til they did, ’til they did, so they did, and they did”
The storytelling that combines all aspects of this track makes for a hell of an impressive and completely satiating banger. Also, perhaps because of the mentions of partying along with the bold beats and electro pop synths, those aspects remind me of Lorde’s Melodrama, maybe “Green Light” in particular with the similarities in how it builds.
“Starling”
Gosh…where do I even begin with “Starling”? Right off the bat, I should assert my stance: I think this is one of my favorite songs of all time…and possibly…one of the best songs ever made? (And you can quote me on that! Seriously.)
As a brief personal anecdote: Starting with the snippet of the bridge from a live performance of the unreleased song posted on her instagram, I have never been addicted to a snippet like that before. That small sample stayed in my head, as I was always making my way back to that melody and those lyrics, to the point where I was absolutely hankering to hear the full version. When it was finally announced as the second single from the album, I was equally eager and hesitant to listen to it — have you ever had those kinds of butterflies when you can just tell that you’re going to listen to one of your favorite songs of all time for the very first time? Miraculously, the full song fulfilled all my expectations to the very brim, and it continues to leave me in awe with every listen.
The intro of the nimble piano keys and tiny peeking traces of soft tremolo notes of guitar sets the sentimental mood, and the first verse adds the gently coaxing drums ever so seamlessly as she dolefully sings of a reluctance to keep fighting for a romantic affair:
“We are face to face with a love of the ages / And my, my, my / I do not know if this heart of mine / Is enough to take it”
Tired of all those inescapable complications, she turns the attention towards a much more dearest form of human connection, brewing the memorable cornerstone line:
“If love is only meant for lovers in bed / You’d better wait ’til we’re done”
As the piano bestirs and pads the easeful jump of dry snare slaps, the ensuing chorus takes the already relaxed production and drops off to an even more hushed environment with a still air of devotion, as if we’re seen sitting alone on the edge of a quiet sidewalk and a trusted friend accompanies you shoulder to shoulder. The first half of the chorus is just the piano line and — what I believe to be the ondes martenot she showed as apart of this album (if you’re unfamiliar with the rare and vintage instrument, think of it sounding like a cross between a synth key and strings) — very finely and poignantly coming from under and arching over your head with a calming warmth, like someone is wrapping their arms around you from behind your back. The drums and flecks of those aforementioned picks of guitar come back in to finish the second half of the chorus to resolve and complete the anti-drop, as she softly confesses:
“To meet another is a miracle, let alone you and I / You and I, you and I”
While an anti-drop (that usually helps to build a more impactful sonic climax) seems like an odd choice for such a mellow song on paper, the way the segments melt into each other doesn’t feel any bit jarring. It lightly text paints the vulnerable message of the song quite well; it’s as if you’re being let go into a body of water and surrendering to your body’s natural desire to float, just like surrendering to the platonic love that you’re already surrounded by, instead of helplessly treading water when you’re chasing romance. The chiffon-like ray of strings fluidly dawns into the mix by the glorious climactic bridge, beautifully swirling around Kinsley as she declares her love and loyalty to her female friendships.
The final chorus lovingly lays us back down to the ground for a bit before we reach the heavenly transcendence of the instrumental outro — the centerpiece strings ensemble sings a melody that magically caresses your soul as you sit in this aura of unconditional love. This outro is single handedly the most deeply moving part of the whole album, and it makes me want to sob for hours as I hug my knees, listening to this part on repeat.
The simultaneous transcendence of the strings and ondes martenot, grounding piano, and thick weight of the wholehearted lyrics and subsurface bass of the drums feels so overwhelmingly soul-stirring with its inherent pure sense of safe surrenderence in love — it feels like laying in your bed under a weighted blanket and with hazy eyes, you can fuzzily see the morning light peak through the window blinds. Yet, while this song has a treasurable elegance from its timeless soft and delicate production, the lyrics still act as the shiniest heavyweight that ultimately makes this song glow in the way that it does. I guess it also helps that I’m personally someone who believes that there are too little platonic love songs in the world, and I cannot get over how much I love that all the preciousness put into this song is reserved for the irreplaceable love of friendships — presented as either equal or even superior to romantic love.
“Escaper”
Finally, the title track “Escaper” clocks in as the closer — and it is exactly what I would expect as the closer of a Sarah Kinsley album. Compared to the large escapist productions of earlier songs on the album that had us traveling through galaxies and dancing between stars, the intensity here feels a bit more of an irreversible wretched ruination — like she’s found herself dangerously trapped between realms as the weight of reality consequently crashes and crumbles down all around her, bound to be hit in the crossfire conjured up by her own mind.
The petrifying staccato rumbling of the piano keys and sharp string of the opening quickly ascends up into the song’s key shambolic instrumental drop of the lead guitar line with its blaring roar, sunken bass, and drums. Regardless of that blindsiding sonic rupture, the track heedlessly continues on like nothing happened with the temperate piano-laced first verse where she reluctantly sobers up to the irksome truth of her bittersweet mental escapades:
“Yeah, it was bliss and a hell / Believing that the world is ours”
However, at the pre-chorus, the bass and small closed cymbal sneak in suspiciously, before her voice and deep drum hits get caught up as she chokes on the word ‘hard’ like a pill she can’t swallow — and we are launched into the chorus with the rocky, chaotic soundscape of earlier plus Kinsely’s agonizing pleads that beg to unlearn the disastrous end results of her infinite escape plans:
“When does it end? / Does it ever go back to the old ways? / When I knew nothing / And we could escape, to escape, to escape, to escape”
With the addition of her slightly distorted chambered vocals, grungy guitar that shoots up like a laser, and more violently stomping drums, the BIG reverb and overdrive of it all really feels like her actions of limitlessly daydreaming are finally reaching its threshold for heinous karma. I love how for the second verse and pre chorus, it lets the bass control the groove alongside the synth chord pad and drums, with the piano coasting along. While the sonorous guitar takes the backseat whenever Kinsley’s belted vocals are in favor, it gets its time back in the spotlight for the post chorus instrumental break, all the way to the faded ending — ultimately resulting in no holy answer to her cries.
I genuinely cannot think back to a time when I have felt THIS excited about an up and coming artist. With every new release she puts out, she only continues to stir this passionate fervor in me — which is in turn, manifesting in me as an unshakable confidence in her artistry. This debut album is classic Sarah Kinsley with all her astral projecting tricks — cosmic iridescent synths, ceremonial strings, charming piano lines, awestriking resounding vocals — up her sleeve, plus a matured audacity that experiments with richer sounds, some off-kilter rhythms and melodies, and elevated picturesque lyricism. Escaper is indisputably its own viable world that exists in the mystics of Kinsley’s conscience, and it is a privilege to experience this gracious opening of her fanciful psyche.
To show such a solid grasp of your own highly distinguishable yet limitless artistry with a debut album like Escaper is a real commendable and impressive feat. I sincerely hope this project opens many doors for her, with the name “Sarah Kinsley” written down in as many new minds as possible.
“Last Time We Never Meet Again” — 10/10
“Realms” — 9.5/10
“Glint” — 8.5/10
“Sublime” — 8/10
“My Name Is Dancing” — 8/10
“Beautiful Things” — 9.5/10
“Barrel of Love” — 10/10
“Matter” — 8.5/10
“There Was A Room” — 7/10
“Knights” — 10/10
“Starling” — ∞/10
“Escaper” — 10/10
Album rating: 4.5/5
