25 for ’25: This Empty Northern Hemisphere by Gregory Alan Isakov

For the next several months, I am going to write about one of my 25 favorite albums from the past quarter-century. Not the best albums, nor the most acclaimed — just my favorites. The only rule I am self-enforcing is one album per band/artist, unless you are in a few bands (that’s for you, Justin Vernon). Hopefully we’ll share a few favorites along the way. If it ends up being a worthwhile and remotely fulfilling project, we’ll take on films later this year.

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Overview

We need to create a new form of measurement for this project, and honestly for other things in life, that represents the best possible version of a thing. (I tried to word that five different ways and it still came out weird, my apologies.) What I mean is this: I find most of Gregory Alan Isakov’s music to be good, not great. But when it is great, it is really great. To use a sports term, Gregory Alan Isakov has a high ceiling (so maybe we do have a term?).

Peak Greg is the complete package, and it’s most evident in his 2009 record This Empty Northern Hemisphere. The record swings, at times almost unevenly, between slow, swaying, interior tracks like “Master & A Hound ” to rocking and overflowing in “This Empty Northern Hemisphere.” I find him to be at his best in the unhurried, deliberately written and paced tracks. This record is especially introspective, keenly observant, and musically balanced. I’ve always believed that some albums pair nicely with different types of real life scenarios (i.e. listen to Cold Roses on a spring day), and I firmly believe this is a night album. Can’t explain it. But if I was sitting under a tin roof when it was raining at 11 p.m. and wanted to listen to music, this would be my first selection.

Additional points to Isakov for the way he is able to give these songs new, creative life in live settings. The few times I have seen Isakov (once with a local symphony) have elevated my opinion of his musical acumen and adaptability. You wouldn’t think someone with a sound that on occasion can be so small would be able to go toe-to-toe with a symphony, but he does so effortlessly.

Signature Song: “Big Black Car”

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A finger-picking and metaphorical zenith, Instrumentally restrained and gloriously written. Lines like “The past, she is haunted, the future is laced” typify the imaginative and visually vivid writing that Isakov is able to muster throughout. I’m a sucker for songs that center really personal nostalgia (see: “Scott Street” by Phoebe Bridgers, “Speed Trap Town” by Jason Isbell, etc.) and Isakov is able to draw listeners in with slightly arcane and deeply yearning figurative language. The kind of song that makes you homesick for a place, or a love, you’ve never been or felt.

Deep Cut: “One of Us Cannot Be Wrong”

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This Leonard Cohen song is given new life in the remarkable harmonies that Isakov and Brandi Carlile spin in the final track on the album. The last 90 seconds of the song are just the pair “oohing” in the goosebumpiest of ways. It’s a beautiful, overlooked song in Cohen’s work that fits in seamlessly amidst the rest of the record. I am musical inept enough to not know what the microphone distortion that he utilizes is called, but it’s incredibly effective throughout, and especially here.

Lyrical and/or Musical Apex: “Dandelion Wine”

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The word that comes to mind here, again, is restraint. Other artists would have written this song to death. They would have beaten the theme out and left you nowhere to go. Isakov uses fewer than 75 words to paint the clearest of pictures and never comes close to over-explaining. The dynamics of the song are the star sonically, with the quiet, mumbly opening lines crescendoing into the chorus. It would be on my short-list for best opening song on an album mentioned in this series.

Most Re-Watched Live Performance: “This Empty Northern Hemisphere”

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This song is really given a new character and energy live with the violin intro, humming and beat-forward tempo, and understated but powerful Isakov vocals. I think this song showcases his greatest depth and range as a singer on the album (especially if you listen to the above video) and again highlights his ability to use dynamics to draw out certain lines. Would also nominate this for the best that his full band sounds on the record.

Defining Quality: Lyricism

If this sounds like a dig at the musicality that Isakov brings to the table, it’s not. Isakov is the paramount example of a specific type of writer that I enjoy throughout multiple mediums. He doesn’t hold your hand; he is specific and visual enough to lead you; but he ultimately lets you paint the picture yourself. I often find myself jotting down verses of these tracks when I’m bored in a meeting, which is the highest praise I know to offer. I’m sure Greg would rather have my jotted down lyrics than any Grammy, obviously.