The Promise and Perplexity of Emily Steinwall’s *but, there’s beauty in the fall from Grace*
There’s something deeply human about an artist’s struggle to follow up a masterpiece. It’s like watching a tightrope walker take their first steps after a flawless debut—you’re rooting for them, but you can’t shake the fear they might stumble. Emily Steinwall’s but, there’s beauty in the fall from Grace is exactly that: a record that teeters between brilliance and bewilderment, leaving listeners both captivated and confounded.
When Steinwall burst onto the scene with her debut, Welcome to the Garden, she did more than just announce her arrival—she declared her genius. That album was a ten-minute odyssey of sound, blending ’70s-inspired riffs with avant-garde saxophone and vocals that could shift from a whisper to a roar in a heartbeat. It was music that demanded attention, and it got it. But with Grace, Steinwall seems to be asking a different question: What happens when the euphoria fades, and all you’re left with is the chaos?
The Album’s Dual Personality
One thing that immediately stands out is the album’s split identity. The opening tracks, Soft Animal and Human Anymore, are a one-two punch of raw energy. Soft Animal is a masterclass in tension and release, with its Radiohead-esque guitar arpeggios building to a climax that feels both cathartic and controlled. Human Anymore, on the other hand, is a snarling, grunge-infused anthem that channels the raw anger of Hole. These songs are Steinwall at her most unfiltered, and they’re exhilarating.
But then, almost inexplicably, the album shifts gears. Tracks like There Is a Light and Rock Me, Baby are lush, languid ballads that feel more like a lullaby than a scream. It’s as if Steinwall, having dipped her toes into the darkness, decided to retreat to the safety of the familiar. Personally, I think this is where the album loses its way. The contrast between the fiery opening and the gentle middle section isn’t just jarring—it’s frustrating. It’s like being handed a novel that starts as a thriller and suddenly turns into a romance halfway through.
The Saxophone Conundrum
A detail that I find especially interesting is Steinwall’s underutilization of her saxophone. On Welcome to the Garden, the sax was her secret weapon, adding layers of complexity and emotion to her sound. But on Grace, it’s almost an afterthought, appearing only sparingly. What this really suggests is that Steinwall might be holding herself back, afraid to fully embrace the elements that made her debut so groundbreaking. It’s a missed opportunity, and one that leaves the album feeling incomplete.
The Beauty in the Fall
Despite its flaws, Grace isn’t without its moments of brilliance. Free Spirit, for instance, is an eight-minute epic that manages to recapture some of the grandeur of Steinwall’s debut. The song builds slowly, with layers of instrumentation and vocals that feel both intimate and expansive. It’s a reminder of what Steinwall is capable of when she’s firing on all cylinders.
What makes this particularly fascinating is the album’s title itself: but, there’s beauty in the fall from Grace. It’s a statement that feels both defiant and resigned, as if Steinwall is acknowledging her missteps while insisting that there’s value in them. And in a way, she’s right. There’s beauty in imperfection, in the willingness to take risks even if they don’t always pay off.
The Broader Implications
If you take a step back and think about it, Grace is a microcosm of the challenges facing artists in today’s music landscape. There’s immense pressure to follow up a successful debut with something even bigger, even better. But what if the artist wants to explore new directions? What if they’re more interested in introspection than innovation? Steinwall’s album raises these questions, even if it doesn’t fully answer them.
From my perspective, Grace is a record that’s trying to do too much and too little at the same time. It wants to be both a cathartic scream and a soothing balm, but it ends up stuck somewhere in between. Yet, there’s something admirable about that ambition, even if it doesn’t always succeed.
Final Thoughts
In the end, but, there’s beauty in the fall from Grace is an album that will divide listeners. Some will see it as a disappointing follow-up to a masterpiece, while others will appreciate its quieter moments and emotional depth. Personally, I fall somewhere in the middle. I admire Steinwall’s willingness to take risks, even if those risks don’t always pay off.
What many people don’t realize is that growth often comes from failure, from those moments when we fall short of our own expectations. Maybe Grace isn’t the album Steinwall intended it to be, but it’s the album she needed to make. And in that sense, it’s a success—not as a masterpiece, but as a stepping stone to whatever comes next.
Recommended Tracks: Soft Animal, Human Anymore, Free Spirit
Final Verdict: 6.5/10
This raises a deeper question: What do we expect from artists, and how much room do we give them to evolve? Steinwall’s Grace might not be perfect, but it’s a reminder that sometimes, the most interesting art comes from the struggle to find one’s way.
