There is a certain unpredictability to Ciarán’s debut solo album Róisín. The Irish singer, formerly of BROCKHAMPTON (where he went by bearface), moves between intimate pop-soul, distorted vocals and moments of complete chaos, often catching you off guard just when you think you have figured out where he is taking you. The production has a close, almost home-recorded feeling to it, allowing his voice to sit right in front of you.
There is a balance between delicacy and roughness running throughout the album. Ciarán allows himself to be vulnerable, only to surprise us with much louder moments later. The production on ‘Crown’ lets electronic distortion come through the otherwise comforting guitar and bass instrumentation. There is also a moment on ‘Loom’ that brings Dijon’s successful Baby to mind. The distorted, high-pitched vocals feel like the little brother of ‘Kindalove’.
The chaotic opening on ‘K-Bar’ feels like an anxiety attack, only to make space for Ciarán to calm you down with a beautiful arrangement of electronic sounds and subtle strings. It is almost as if he purposely wants to throw you off first, making sure you have your guard up before he earns your trust and lets you bring it back down. The song plays with that contrast between anxiety and comfort in a way that makes the softer moments hit even harder.
Somewhere around the middle of the album he loses us for a bit. ‘Chevy’ and ‘Claddagh’ are solid tracks in their own right. There is nothing in the production getting in the way of his voice, and both songs give him plenty of room to tell their stories. ‘Claddagh’ takes its inspiration from the traditional Irish ring, with its symbols of friendship, love and loyalty. Yet, in the middle of an album that constantly finds ways to grab our attention, these two tracks feel like a pause that lasts a little too long. It is an interesting contrast that, in the moments where Ciarán has the most to say lyrically, the songs leave us with the least to hold on to.
‘Dummy’ is by far the most commercially accessible song on the album. Its pretty, acoustic guitar-led production feels like a warm hug, with layered vocals mimicking an intimate singalong between friends around a campfire. After all the noise and the tricks Ciarán has up his sleeve, the album needs this moment. It is a chance to feel welcome in his world without having to figure anything out. The loving and romantic lyrics, “Dummy, I'll keep on lovin' 'til it's all I've got (Oh) / Day and night to your side, sweat shinin' off your spine”, make the track all the more endearing.
If Róisín needed a just-over-one-minute trailer, ‘Bashment’ would do an excellent job without speaking a word. The interlude has no lyrics, yet says everything you need to know about the album. It moves from perfectly curated chaos into almost innocent, childlike mumbling, before settling into comforting acoustic guitar playing, capturing the different sides of his sound and the unexpected places he takes us throughout the record.
After 40 minutes of keeping us guessing, ‘Waterslide’ lets us leave exactly the way we hoped to: gently. Around the 3:30 mark, the music begins to wind down and slowly fades away. For a debut, Róisín is a confident introduction to an artist who’d rather surprise you than settle down.