The Catenary Wires

I’ll be mildly surprised if one of these songs from Red Red Skies doesn’t end up on some charming indie movie that Netflix recommends to me 18 months after all the kids have already watched it. This debut from the Catenary Wires (Amelia Fletcher and Rob Pursey) has undeniable appeal — stopping short of heartbreak overindulgence — and seems perfect for soundtracking idealized cinema heartbreak. It’s a quiet walk-in-the-park reflection on the end of relationships rather than a tearful launching of someone else’s stuff out a window. 

Each of the eight tracks on this brief indie-pop album takes on the dissolution of relationships. “Throw Another Love Song on the Fire” might capture it all not in its title, but in its calm delivery. When Pursey sings, “I am cold and lonely / And these flames are the only / Warmth inside,” it’s a knowing line and a bit reflective on the point of writing this sort of song. If that line strikes you as cloying, this could be a tough album for you.

Fortunately, Fletcher and Pursey (of Tender Trap among other acts) are typically sharp songwriters. Opening track and first single “Intravenous” casually states the risk and insecurity inherent in relationships. The feeling that “Intravenous: nothing ever comes between us / It’s the only way that we know” is shadowed by the knowledge that “nothing lasts forever.” That the questions about the relationships are delivered in harmony over a lovely guitar part adds to the sinking process. 

“Too Late, I Love You” comes at a breakup from a different angle. “It was over before it started,” Fletcher sings. “It made you hardened – your heart against me.” The acoustic guitar creeps through the song. If the hurt was inevitable, whatever comes next isn’t, and it might be something unnerving. The duo makes the chorus pretty, but Fletcher chooses an eerie note for “you,” leaving ghosts in the corners of the room. 

This despair leads to the slightly bouncier “Like a Fool” and its singer’s willingness to be fooled. “Say you love me / Say that it’s true / I’ll believe you / Like a fool,” captures the only positive response to the world of Red Red Skies where everything falls apart. It’s a world where intertwined pairs spiral apart and relationship stuff ends up, at best, on eBay. 

Like the relationships, this world doesn’t last long. At 26 minutes, the album checks out before its weight catches up to it. The music and vocals are light enough that the disc doesn’t turn morbid, but it still hang on a concept that, except for miserable moments, isn’t best to dwell in for too long. Red Red Skies isn’t quite one-note (even if it’s a pretty note), but it’s focused enough that it makes its point concisely and moves on. As an album, it’s a quick, pleasing listen, but it may obscure the strength of some cuts as individual songs. Taken separately, they’re almost stronger. Kind of like the people in these relationshi—oh, never mind.

Justin Cober-Lake