The Promise and Perplexity of Emily Steinwall’s *but, there’s beauty in the fall from Grace*
There’s something deeply intriguing about an artist who dares to pivot sharply from their debut, especially when that debut was as electrifying as Emily Steinwall’s Welcome to the Garden. Her latest album, but, there’s beauty in the fall from Grace, feels like a paradox wrapped in a riddle. On one hand, it’s a testament to Steinwall’s versatility and ambition. On the other, it’s a frustrating exercise in unfulfilled potential. Personally, I think this album is a fascinating study in artistic risk-taking—but it’s also a cautionary tale about the dangers of overcorrecting.
The Promise of Darkness
From the outset, Steinwall signaled that Grace would be a departure from the cosmic euphoria of her debut. The album’s advance singles, ‘Soft Animal’ and ‘Human Anymore,’ hinted at a darker, grittier direction. ‘Soft Animal’ with its Radiohead-esque arpeggios and Steinwall’s soaring vocals felt like a natural evolution, while ‘Human Anymore’ channeled a raw, Hole-inspired energy that was both surprising and exhilarating. What makes this particularly fascinating is how Steinwall seemed to be tapping into a more visceral, contemporary sound—a stark contrast to the retro-futuristic vibes of Garden.
But here’s where things get perplexing: after those two tracks, the album takes a sharp left turn into ballad territory. Songs like ‘There Is a Light’ and ‘No One Wins a War’ are undeniably beautiful, but they lack the edge that the opening tracks promised. It’s as if Steinwall got cold feet, retreating to a safer, more familiar space. In my opinion, this is where the album loses its momentum. The contrast between the initial intensity and the subsequent lull feels jarring, like a conversation that starts with a heated debate and abruptly shifts to small talk.
The Beauty of the Slump
What many people don’t realize is that even in its inconsistencies, Grace has moments of genuine brilliance. Steinwall’s vocals remain her superpower—her range, from breathy lows to banshee-like highs, is nothing short of mesmerizing. The production, too, is impeccable, with layers of reverb and organic percussion creating a warm, immersive soundscape. Tracks like ‘Free Spirit’ showcase her ability to craft dynamic, grandiose compositions, even if they don’t quite reach the heights of Garden’s title track.
One thing that immediately stands out is Steinwall’s underutilized saxophone. Her sax work was a defining feature of her debut, yet here it’s relegated to just one track. It’s a missed opportunity, especially when you consider how much depth and texture it could have added to the ballads. If you take a step back and think about it, this feels symbolic of the album’s larger issue: Steinwall seems to be holding back, as if she’s afraid to fully commit to either the darkness or the light.
The Fall and the Future
This raises a deeper question: What does it mean for an artist to ‘fall from grace’? In Steinwall’s case, it’s not that Grace is a bad album—far from it. It’s more that it feels like a step sideways rather than forward. The title itself is ironic; the album’s pursuit of beauty and healing seems to have led to its own downfall, as it prioritizes prettiness over depth. A detail that I find especially interesting is how Steinwall’s lyrics center on a wounded heart’s desire to heal, yet the music often feels too polished to truly convey that raw emotion.
What this really suggests is that Steinwall is still figuring out her voice. Garden was a bold statement, but Grace feels like a retreat into safer territory. Personally, I’m hopeful that this is just a transitional phase. Artists often need to take a step back before they can leap forward. If Steinwall can reconcile her ambition with her vulnerability, her next project could be something truly extraordinary.
Final Thoughts
but, there’s beauty in the fall from Grace is an album of contradictions—both captivating and frustrating, ambitious and hesitant. It’s not the masterpiece Garden was, but it’s far from a failure. In many ways, it’s a reminder that even the most talented artists are human, prone to missteps and self-doubt. What makes Steinwall’s work so compelling is her willingness to take risks, even if they don’t always pay off.
From my perspective, this album is a necessary detour on Steinwall’s artistic journey. It may not be the destination, but it’s a fascinating stop along the way. Here’s hoping she finds her footing again—because when Emily Steinwall is firing on all cylinders, she’s a force to be reckoned with.
Recommended Tracks: Soft Animal, Human Anymore, Free Spirit
Final Verdict: 6.5/10
