Embracism

Although at times Embracism feels like a meandering listen or musical stream of consciousness, Callinan’s songwriting skills have allowed him to find cohesion throughout its ten songs, a consistency that a less engaging personality certainly wouldn’t have struck upon.

Throughout it all, his rich, lived-in baritone, which can go from a funereal dirge to a supernatural caterwaul in a matter of seconds, delivers the goods like the world's most demented herald, but even at his most fevered, he remains such an engaging figure, that it's nearly impossible to look away from the scene of the crime, even as the blood begins pooling around the listeners' feet.

At its core, Embracism is a full-fledged artistic statement that's at once endearing and wildly eccentric.

Embracism sounds like little else out there--a rare thing to say about any piece of music.

You get the sense of an artist whose songwriting potential hasn’t been maximized, as Callinan’s got the vocal chops to keep Embracism interesting throughout.

Embracism is a record that’ll grab you and bring you close, but also one that won’t hesitate to push you away with a gut punch and expect you to take it like a man.

A mix of Trent Reznor and Patrick Wolf, he’s both an industrial piledriver and theatrical show-off, making this debut record disorientating, confusing and exciting.

If this album works, it’s because of moments like “Landslide”: those that cut through the density of an artist in flux, one susceptible to myriad influences, managerial grumblings, and producer cues, overeager to pass off his work as undeniably unique.

For each solid purchase on a strong lyric there’s a mess somewhere else; for nearly every powerful accretion of sound there’s a nearly unbearable one. The record’s volatility both saves and mars it.