Hum – Inlet (Album Review) ^Featured

Hum – Inlet (2020)

By Johnno

Thanks to social media, and especially Facebook, the act of planning and executing high school reunions have become obsolete. To run into old friends, acquaintances, and the like only to catch up on their vacation posts, birth and marriage announcements, bullshit in the news and reference Simpsons memes now – feels mostly redundant. You already know what these jamokes are up to, so why get dressed up and be in the same room with them? Gross, right? But you never know, maybe the reunion could bode well. It might be worthwhile to see these people IRL because people change, and it’s those surprising changes in those you least expect, and receive the long, unanswered question of “what are they like now?” from the back of your mind.

If you graduated high school in 1998, the underrated, post-grunge/space-rock Illinois quartet Hum would have seemed like an apropos drop-in-the-bucket of guitar-heavy bands of the era. The band’s popularity was much like the introverted kids in the corner of the cafeteria binging on Vonnegut. But every now and then, there would be an unforgettable momentary ruckus that reminded the popular kids that they existed and indeed, had influence. Hum’s contemporaries like LA’s legendary trio Failure and Sacramento’s golden children Deftones both praised Hum in the late ‘90s. To this day, Spotlights and Deafheaven have both drawn inspiration of guitar tonal qualities switching existential planes as Hum did.

When Inlet was released in June, 2020, it took the fanbase by surprise. After some minor tours and shows popping up sporadically in the 2010s, an album was introduced with the lowest-key approach possible. The “Oh, by the way, we made something” vibe felt like a post-script addendum in an e-mail from a long-lost friend. What did those kids in the corner of the cafeteria have to say 22 years after their previous release (Downward Is Heavenward)? Was it more of the same? Did they adult up? Was this release even necessary?

The lead off track, ‘Waves’, wastes no time. A mere five seconds in, I was hooked. A split second of feedback followed by the four-piece landing together (or taking off?) into the perfect BPM, dropped-D rhythmic riff layered with an E-bow-esque drone lead, to lure the listener in. The whole track feels shorter than what it is, which, in this reviewer’s opinion, a telling sign of effective songwriting. ‘Desert Rambler’, ‘The Summoning’, ‘Folding’ and ‘Shapeshifter’ all clocking between eight and nine minutes long, consisting of drawn-out interludes, imploring space and dissonance. Lead guitarist Tim Lash’s contributions can only be described as ethereally uncomplicated. Bourdain and Ramsey would be proud for the use of simple ingredients, nothing flashy, but a meal of music that surely stands out. A personal suggestion: this music pairs well with a popcorn ceiling and some psilocybin assistance that makes for an entertaining hour.

Lyrically, lead singer and guitarist Matt Talbot showcases the maturity of introspection that can only come with two decades of absence. In his prose, he’s retrospective through characters in love, loss, journey, and friendship through a dream-like lens. A relaxed vocal style bordering sing-talk, and Matt’s surreal words and phrasings traipsed over crushing alt-prog-rock, imbue telling tales of inner and outer exploration. While most notably, are the final minutes of the closing track, ‘Shapeshifter’ that offers a baroque painting where the first-person perspective literally shifts from human to animal, to bird, to animal and back to human. Inlet’s journey has come to a close, resting within nature and content with oneself and resolve.

Looking back, Hum’s break out song ‘Stars’ from 1995’s You’d Prefer An Astronaut feels light years away. The band’s initial, active run was exciting for its youthful energy, though with that, comes the loose, fragility, and unease of the performance. Hum of today has the maturity, focus, and thoughtfulness that growing up allows, shown both musically and lyrically. While, unfortunately, with the passing of drummer Bryan St. Pare in 2021, we can only hope to hear more worthwhile journeys with a replacement (*cough cough* Kellii Scott? *cough cough*), in the hopes we don’t run into Matt Talbot & co. in another 22 years.

On a personal note, Hum’s Inlet has stayed in my active rotation for the past 4 years. The album is a reliable go-to for any time of the day, or occasion that I feel balances qualities that I love in music. It’s been used a backdrop in long drives, long walks, working solo in a warehouse, during renovation work, alone time with my better half, making dinner, and so on. And because of the adaptability I’ve allowed this album to have in my life, I can’t help but feel emotionally invested to a degree in designating it a perfect score. This work is relatable for its journey of maturity and, whether or not you agree with my assessment, I feel confident enough to give it the score I feel it deserves, and mature enough to not give a fuck for any naysaying. So that’s where I’m at… no need for a high school reunion.

10 / 10

Johnno