I wasn’t going to review this album. I imagine that anyone who regularly engages with our content has had enough of me talking about Hurray for the Riff Raff after I reviewed their last album and then whittered on about their wonderful career during the Why I Love section of a recent podcast. But sometimes an artist releases an album that I just have to talk about. I wasn’t even all that excited about this one if I’m being honest. While I did really like LIFE ON EARTH, it did mark a departure that made me wonder where their career was going to go moving forward. In one respect, it would be easy to say that The Past Is Still Alive seems them returning to their traditional, country-folk roots. But that would massively undersell what this album does. Because yes – it does make the most of those influences, for sure – but it also uses them to elevate Hurray For The Riff Raff to something more accessible, more radio-ready, and yet, at the same time, often more impactful, too.
Even from the guitar tone that opens the album on ‘Alibi’, this is an instantly – and constantly – inviting album. The chorus of this one – and particularly the line ‘I love you very much, and all that other stuff’ – shows the way that Alynda Segarra makes their often-complex music feel simplistic and welcoming. That tone continues in the Western-worthy ‘Buffalo’, a love song that stretches past love for another to take in a love for the natural world around us. Segarra is one strong lyrical form here. And ‘Hawkmoon’ ramps things up for the first time, with a pace and swagger we haven’t seen on the album so far. The chorus has festival singalong written all over it.
But for me, it’s the section that begins with ‘Colossus of Roads’ that takes this album from great to something special. This is beautiful, quietly powerful, and heartbreaking song with some of the most stunning lyrics of their career – ‘say goodbye to America, I want to see it dissolve’ being chief among them. ‘Snake Plant (The Past Is Still Alive) continues in that vein. With so many lines that will stick with you for a long time, this song uses its narrative to drag the listener along as it builds and builds and builds. It’s most impactful moment comes when Segarra shows their constant concern for society with lyrics which show hope we will emerge from the mire, alongside an increasingly upbeat and fast-paced tune. This incredible section closes with the cracking ‘Vetiver’, a song so catchy I’ve been waking in the night with its words reverberating around my skull.
While that might be the standout section of the LP, that doesn’t mean it dims from there. ‘Hourglass’ is a bittersweet and beautiful ballad and one of the most autobiographical songs on offer here – the lines ‘I always felt like a dirty kid, I used to eat out of the garbage’ feeling particularly powerful if you’re aware of Segarra’s personal history. ‘Dynamo’ is another anthem that’s likely to come to life on stage, ‘The World is Dangerous’ is calm and considered on the surface but lyrically powerful and occasionally overwhelming, and ‘Ogallala’ finishes the album in a perfect way – given that it mixes the personal and political, tells a great story, and makes the listener consider their place in the world as they watch it burn.
The album concludes with a lovely interlude of sorts, as Segarra plays voicemails from their recently departed father. It’s a lovely moment that really does highlight how personal this album feels compared to some of their previous work. They have always worn their political and societal concerns on their sleeve, but this album mixes those thoughts and feelings with a really close look at how their life has shaped them. Breaking the album down into songs as I have in this review almost does it a disservice, as it is the whole piece that leaves me feeling shattered, hopeful, and welcomed into someone else’s world. An amazing feat in just 32 minutes.
Words by Fran Slater
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