Antony & The Johnsons
The Crying Light
Secretly Canadian
By Mike Randall
Antony Hegarty is holding secrets that only the Earth and surrounding universe know. With his third full-length, The Crying Light, Hegarty seems to have given up on the world he’s living in with a yearning to settle in a place where he can live freely, in peace and not necessarily on the inside of the circle, but at least on the fringe. It’s not a death wish, just a desire for something different.
Despite the symphony of instruments surrounding Hegarty and his piano, his androgynous voice remains the centerpiece, and it’s as strong as ever. Recalling the operatic range and magnetic nature of Jeff Buckley, Hegarty has the uncanny ability to stop you in your tracks with a single croon, as evidenced during the opening seconds of “Her Eyes Are Underneath The Ground.” He sounds so fragile, like he’s going to twitch if you take a step toward him from another room, and the record’s unlikely intimacy gives off the illusion that Hegarty is no longer with us. Thankfully, he is.
Hegarty has described the theme of the album as being "about landscape and the future," but his prediction for his own future isn’t as dire as you’d think. He uses the familiar symbolism of light and dark to represent the world he now lives in and the one he believes he’ll find, and the music modulates in accordance. This is best represented during “Daylight And The Sun,” as Hegarty sings, “Daylight in my heart/Daylight in the trees/Daylight kisses everything she can see.” There’s optimism in his voice that he will find inner peace, which he searches for on the gorgeous “One Dove” as a clarinet dances behind him, and the room is so still you can hear movement in the background. Hegarty seems to be looking down at the world from another place during “Kiss My Name,” his voice possessing a joyful, giddy quality rarely heard as strings swirl around him, but that outlook likely stems from a revelation during the electric soul of “Aeon”: “Oh, aeon will repair me.”
The funny thing about Hegarty’s quest for inner solitude is that he seems to have found that place in his mind and the music reflects a newfound comfort. The calming, cerebral “Dust And Water” is sung like a chant, while the album-ending “Everglade” seems to describe the weightless sensation of floating in water. Arranged with composer Nico Muhly, Hegarty sings, “My body stops crying for home/My limbs stop weeping for home.” Still, it’s when he comes to terms with the fact the world has failed him and the acceptance to move on strikes during “Another World” that’s most haunting. Written like a suicide note but not in the sense he wants to die, Hegarty and his piano lament about the fact there are things he’ll miss when he’s somewhere else.
One gets the sense it’s painful for Hegarty to put himself out there, at least in the space he presently occupies. He has to take himself out his own picture to say the things he needs to say, and it’s typically through symbolic imagery. During the album’s title track he displays one of his more direct moments, singing of one day finding the courage to receive love, his voice operatic as a gentle symphony follows his trail. With a record like The Crying Light, there are a lot of people willing to issue that love – we can only hope he’ll always be here to receive it, if he wants to be.
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