The way music is consumed and promoted has shifted the role of albums to mere packaging for singles. So when we are presented with a complete thought in the form of an album, it can be challenging to understand, leaving us wondering whether this is a concept album or an experimental work.
But it’s just a complete work of art, and Chasen Wayne’s Corpus is just that, complete. Defined as a collection of written texts, especially the entire works of a particular author or a body of writing on a particular subject, the title of this album is perfect. But Corpus is also a place. And on this album, this very real place in Texas plays a major role in the life and times of a fictional protagonist. The location becomes a character in many ways, serving several functions throughout.
Starting with “Honeymoon,” a sonically diverse and interesting song, provides a critical prologue. With so much happening, from the incredibly complex forshaddowing to the strong lyrical structure and soaring strings, the song is a perfect opening to the album.
“Tears” provides the next chapter in the story, and “Riptide,” with its wonderful fiddle and pedal steel, furthers the complex feelings of the first two songs, pushing it forward without words. Every one of the songs takes you through the stages of life and pain, mistakes and intentional choices that push the story forward.
Wayne told me that the album explores the impact of decisions made in the first song, an affair during a honeymoon, and where the characters end up, often in relation to Corpus Christi and the choices made there. But more, “it’s really about the viscous cycle of being a parent, and how hard it is to break.”
Without taking too much away from your listening, the story is right there, but you need to pay close attention. The transition from the first three songs to the rest of the album is subtle, but important to note, even without providing spoilers.
Wayne considered making this transition more overt in production, but didn’t want to take away from the songs as individual pieces, which, in my opinion, further elevates the album. “I wanted it to appeal as a collection of songs that can stand alone as well,” he said in an interview. “But if you’re listening, there’s a story being threaded.”
A weird and wonderful collection of styles and sounds supports this difficult story. In many ways, this album is impossible to place within a genre — it’s as if it finds itself at a four-way stop sign where Acid Jazz patiantly waits on Hard Rock and Adult Contempary to choose who gets to take the left first, as country music sits in its big truck, either too drunk to move or regretting all those times when it was.
I don’t often engage in long-form album reviews, partly because they are hard to do. But this album feels very different from what is offered by most contemporary artists. I wanted to wrap my arms around the body of this work and better understand the full picture Wayne painted for us.
Corpus is available to stream everywhere tomorrow.