‘I See It Now’ is an emotionally resonant and musically generous collection, but its strength also comes from its staggering economy.
I’m always excited to hear new stuff from Bryan. To my mind he’s a plainspoken wordsmith with a poetic soul, which, if you think about it, is eons better than a polysyllabic fraud with a poetic veneer.
He’s also a devoted and hardworking melodicist. I feel it comes naturally to him, but I also think he’s quite reverential about it. It’s the sort of enviable thing you can work your ass off to achieve and never even approach the tip of.
Listening to his new record, ‘I See It Now,’ reaffirms all these qualities. It’s an emotionally resonant and musically generous collection, but its strength also comes from its staggering economy. The arrangements sing, and all of its elements have a hard-earned, well-deserved spot in its mini-universe.
Topically, Bryan describes it as an “exploration” of how people navigate the highs and lows of relationships. “There are no rules, guarantees or a set road map to follow,” he explains, but that uncertainty is what makes the journey exciting, he adds.
‘I See It Now’ also holds personal significance for the songwriter as it was recorded in both Spain and Australia, marking the first time he was able to work with his Spanish band in the studio. Inspired by his 2024 tour of Spain, Estepa knew he wanted previous collaborator JJ Extremera to produce, and for his Spanish bandmates to form its foundation.
“The songs came to me very quickly, and I just rode the wave with JJ,” he recalls.
And speaking of songs, I’m once more sharing my gut reactions to each number (including those I’ve written about before but have now reconsidered anew).
“Where You Begin” is pleasant and uplifting, takes its sweet time to unfold, and sports well-placed details like in every good story.
“Grounded” is confrontational in a friendly way, with refreshing rhythms characterized by stop-and-go cadences and Ringo-like fills; the minor-fall, major-lift changes are heartbreaking, like the best parts from the Macca-Jackson Browne playbook.
“Version of Me” could have soundtracked a road trip movie; it’s a Fountains of Wayne-Lemonheads love child of a tune; it’s sweet and it makes you giddy like the best tickle-till-pink things; that sax solo and that bendy solo both teeter on the edge of yacht-rock idiomaticity but doesn’t quite get there.
“Smile Away” approaches cheesy territory, for sure, and I don’t know how to feel about that pseudo-funky chord progression, but the earnestness is irresistible, and that’s what matters most of the time; Bryan, in my opinion, is an earnest dramatist first, an able melodicist second, and a practical-yet-punchy instrumentalist last.
“Lines Will Show” has a sunshine-y Paul Westerberg ring to it; it doesn’t quite gut you, but that chorus is so pretty you’ll pardon the parts that plod.
“Alright, OK” makes a strong case for guitar pop; it has that Matthew Sweet undeniability, which is to say, it’s affective in its being affectionate, the way “Sick of Myself” or “We’re the Same” were three decades back.
“La Ultima Vez” is barebones in the best possible way, buoyed by a good melody and an unmistakable heart.
“Corners” is a lights-out/lighters-in rocker whose defiance is belied by its smiling-face vim and vitality.
“I See It Now” takes it down notch, more coffee- or tea-like after a sumptuous smorgasbord.
I’ve said enough, and I know you won’t keep mum after you spin it, too. Do it.