The phrase “coming of age” usually refers to a lightbulb moment for teens and 20-somethings, but the secret adults share is that we come of age over and over. It isn’t limited to a set of years when we are supposed to “grow up”. The fascinating thing about life is that it is a series of signposts of increasing maturity rather than a signpost that reads “adulthood”. Venezuela-born, Indiana-based singer-songwriter Rui Gabriel gets this. By his recollection in the press kit, Compassion’s songs were inspired by a desire to capture the transition to adult responsibilities. Gabriel is growing up and settling into fatherhood, and this record reflects his waving goodbye to the carefree days. You can almost imagine him watching those days fade off into the sunset on the album cover, squinting and smiling as he prepares to embark on the next chapter.
Fittingly released on 21st June, Gabriel has delivered the perfect summer golden hour record in Compassion, a collection that deftly tours through 1990s indie rock like a cherished mixtape constructed by a friend who knows you better than you know yourself. It is a perfect soundtrack to the late afternoon barbecue, but it will also take you through the night’s last sips of wine around a fire as the conversation shifts from small talk to deeper discussions.
Gabriel established his indie rock bona fides in Lawn, a well-regarded slacker rock band he founded with Mac Folger. Across that band’s three records, Lawn mixed Minutemen-like, high-energy rave-ups with mid-tempo songs that recall Pavement and Silver Jews. On Compassion, he leans into other indie rock institutions like Yo La Tengo and Spoon for inspiration. Gabriel’s carefully constructed songs blend rock, dance, and keys with evocative lyrics, also recalling another of the brightest stars in contemporary indie rock, Bartees Strange.
Opener “Dreamy Boys” looks back fondly at those years when the biggest concern of the day was getting out of work on time to make it to the show, but from there, there’s a balance of maturity, urgency, and optimism comes to life across these songs. Gabriel brings along his talented friends Stef Chura and Kate Teague to add some warmth to his generous, open-hearted songs. These collaborations are clear high points on the record. “Target”, arguably the finest song on Compassion, takes on couples’ strife with humor and pathos. Teague’s contributions to the song make it easy to compare this to the great songs about couples from Ira Kaplan and Georgia Hubley in Yo La Tengo, but the thump and groove it builds into mixes in a little Spoon, too. Lyrically, “We solve arguments by talking / Not yelling at a target” could be framed and put in a counseling office.
Elsewhere, “Hunting Knife” has a dreamy, hazy sound, and Chura’s track “Summertime Tiger” is boosted by vibrant keys and a chorus that dares you not to sing along. Teague returns for closer “Money”, buoyed by keys that glide above its thumping drum loop. It comes on like a Saturday morning sunrise. Gabriel and Teague imploring us to “just don’t do it” seems less like a warning and more like an invitation to enjoy the moment.
Gabriel also does just fine on his own. “Church of Nashville”, an acoustic-led song with an infectious thump, finds him poking at the pretension and gatekeeping in indie rock. “If You Want It” is a loving but clear-eyed look at a partner. “End of My Rope” recalls another examination of relationship strife and bliss, Josh Rouse‘s sadly lost to the dustbin Under Cold Blue Stars. The maturity of Gabriel’s lyrics and craftsmanship recall that record’s open-hearted view of domesticity. His lyrics capture the beauty of everyday moments with a directness that can make you stop what you’re doing to enjoy the image for a moment.
Compassion is the type of record you can’t wait to share with like-minded friends, but you also know it will provide some solace on lonely nights or help you give yourself some grace when you need it most. It feels like a gift.