Wryn -- Shapes
Bee Dolores reviews Shapes, a transfromative (and trans) album by Wryn
The beauty of melody lies at the core of Wryn’s new album. They shape-shift with every offering, starting with the somber, lilting “Coiled.” In exposing layers of their consciousness, they uncover more raw and affecting elements to their work. Shapes, produced by Bella Blasko (The National), sees Wryn reclaiming their own liquid transformation of self and the craft slipping into and out of their hands.
It’s a rush to experience electric moments like “Snake,” thick tentacles wrapping around the listener’s eardrums with a silky slither. “Holy water can’t save your daughters or wash your hands clean,” they seethe, “and I can’t wait for an answer before I get free.” In unpacking their anger over socio-political upheaval, from the Black Lives Matter movement to Roe v Wade being toppled, Wryn squeezes every drop of blood from their body.
That’s the nature of Shapes. It’s hard to swallow and pinpoint. And that’s the point.
Ringing “more personal” than they thought possible, they clutch the lyrics closer to their chest. Such a shift led them to “look at myself more clearly and see myself as separate from my trauma. Once I could see myself separate, I could see a lot.” While Wryn underwent a personal transformation related to gender, they remind the listener that the music itself is “not just about gender.” They note. “That’s just one of the things that came from this process.”
The fragmentation of their gender comes into clear focus with the title track. “Shapes” trembles like a pebble being tossed into an otherwise tranquil pond, ripples being sent out in all directions. “I’ve split myself in two for too long,” they moan in sharp whispers. “I am my eyes. I am my body, whole. I am my mind.” The song clocks in at under two minutes yet comes in like a wrecking ball to deconstruct their sense of self and wonder.
“Multitudes” unbottles the many versions of themselves, scratching and clawing to get out (“Inside are multitudes / My hands are tied only to myself for the night”), while the dark and drippy finale “Sticky” arrives as among their most moving compositions. “Violence of men, the dark in their eyes / Here in the flames, I’ll turn it to light,” they coo over prickly guitar work. Across the record, they exhibit an aching to be seen, heard, and understood. From the top down, there’s nary a dud in the bunch – and it’s quite clear that Shapes is Wryn’s profound manifesto.
Shapes is Wryn stripping away exteriors to dissect the “roots of the emotions.” Shapes is equal parts dreamy and personally radical. As somewhat of a re-introduction to the world, the nine-track project sees them staking a claim in the soil and letting the richness of the earth soak into their bones. That’s the mark of a great artist; to allow the world to infect and change their body chemistry is one of life’s great miracles. Wryn just happens to have found their complete self.
