Sam Moss’ Swimming unfolds like a meditation on life’s contradictions, a delicate balance between yearning and acceptance, isolation and connection. With an ensemble of talented musicians, including Isa Burke, Molly Sarlé, and Jake Xerxes Fussell, Moss crafts a rich tapestry of sound that complements his earthy, expressive voice. This album feels like an invitation to explore both the beauty and the challenge of self-reflection, set to a warm, comforting blend of folk and Americana.
The opening track, “Enough,” sets the tone with its hauntingly beautiful melody, where Moss’ voice, paired with Isa Burke’s violin and Sarlé’s harmonies, explores the tension between contentment and longing. The song’s poignant lyrics—“Broken by morning, and sunk by dusk”—reflect Moss’ ability to create deeply resonant moments with simple but profound imagery. The track introduces the album’s overarching theme: an internal struggle to find peace while reaching for more.
While Swimming offers a foundation in folk, Moss skillfully shifts genres and tones throughout. “Lost,” featuring electric guitar from Jake Xerxes Fussell, evokes the expansive, cinematic feel of Gregory Alan Isakov’s work, while “Eyes” leans into a fuzzier, shoegaze-inspired sound. Yet, it’s the acoustic-driven tracks, like the introspective “Moonbeams,” that most clearly highlight Moss’ knack for weaving personal reflection with a sense of timelessness. In “Wire,” the lilt of the waltz rhythm contrasts sharply with its dark lyrics about environmental destruction, reinforcing Moss’ ability to mask heavy subjects in deceptively light melodies.
The album’s title track encapsulates its essence: an exploration of personal contradictions. Moss muses on self-doubt and perseverance, singing, “Stuck in the past / But somehow still living,” with a clarity that mirrors the record’s blend of vulnerability and resilience. These contradictions—between what we want and what we need, between fear and hope—are echoed throughout the album, drawing the listener in for a deeper experience with each song.
In the final track, “World,” Moss delivers a touching meditation on mortality, accompanied by a soothing, intimate arrangement. The music, despite its quiet sadness, feels profoundly comforting, a reminder to hold on to fleeting moments of beauty in an otherwise indifferent world. Swimming is an album of moments—some quiet, some stark—that will stay with you long after the final note fades. It’s a journey through personal reflection and universal truths, marked by Moss’ gift for making the ordinary extraordinary. – Jason Felton