Song of the Earth is daring and sincere; it is an artistic statement enshrining David Longstreth’s musical versatility, creativity, and nuanced moments of resistance.
As floodwaters rise and we “Walk the Edge”, Song of the Earth emerges as a reckoning. David Longstreth’s recent album is an ambitious 24-part song cycle for voice and orchestra, performed with Dirty Projectors and the Berlin-based chamber orchestra s t a r g a z e. These collaborators bring a sweeping scale to the album, while a slate of guest contributors brings emotional depth. For example, Phil Elverum (Mount Eerie), Steve Lacy, Ayoni, and Anastasia Coope broaden the record’s thematic and musical arc. At its core, Song of the Earth is a contrast study that musically portrays our environment as a world teetering between destruction and beauty.
Song of the Earth gets its name from Gustav Mahler’s Das Lied von der Erde (The Song of the Earth) and also draws inspiration from David Wallace-Wells’ book, The Uninhabitable Earth. Both are fitting subtexts, as the symphony and the text portray beauty and decay juxtaposed to the vulnerability of life on Earth. Yet, even with these influences, Longstreth contends that Song of the Earth is not a “climate change opera“.
This claim, however, creates tension, if not a contradiction. In the same statement, David Longstreth emphasizes the album’s focus on balance, referencing the pandemic era when he fled wildfire-ravaged California for refuge in Alaska. While he avoids making the album’s singular subject, climate change, Song of the Earth dwells in the tension that climate change creates.
This tension surfaces in songs like “Uninhabitable Earth, Paragraph One“. The tracks come directly from Wallace-Wells’ text, layering the reading over swirling strings and ominous brass. The result is a foreboding soundscape. The lyrics decry “an anthology of comforting delusions”. Longstreth is specific; these delusions include the common belief that global warming only affects coastlines or that the environmental crisis is “of the ‘natural world / Not the human one”. The chorus creates urgency as the lyrics repeat, “None of this is true”. In this light, Song of the Earth resists the classification as a straightforward commentary on climate change. Instead, it depicts a complex emotional terrain where crisis and hope are in dialogue.
Song of the Earth has moments of softness and even optimism. The song “Blue of Dreaming”, a lullaby David Longstreth wrote for his newborn daughter, is tender. Likewise, “At Home” is playful and vivid, its language rooted in food and growth. The references to “beans”, “maize”, and “squash” evoke the Three Sisters planting tradition. A method derived from Native agriculture that emphasizes intercropping or symbiotic crop support. Longstreth uses the tradition as a subtle but profound call for coexistence and mutual care. Here, Song of the Earth positions vulnerability as a depleted resource.
Throughout the album, Longstreth uses color as a symbol. In “Blue of Dreaming”, the repeated line “that’s the blue of dreaming” turns the color into a symbol of hope and imagination. Here, dreaming is not an escape; it’s a space to envision a flourishing world, a world our current reality denies. It’s this disconnect between our dreaming and awakening states that influences our anxiety.
In “Circled in Purple”, the color signals disaster. “The map circled in purple / The map encircled in purple light. It evokes imagery of weather maps that use purple circles to indicate higher precipitation levels, leading to flooding. Later, David Longstreth uses purple to illustrate emotional confusion: “It feels so right to be here at the end of the supply chain / It feels wrong / Makes me feel alone / I want to cry.” The lyrics capture the contradiction of comfort amid collapse, provoking listeners to ask, “why aren’t we reordering our lives same day?”
In response, the record explores how we are trying to regain our balance. Tracks like “Bank On” and “Gimme Bread” reflect the influence of post-industrial pop and noise, genres that offered societal critique through dissonant sound. “Bank On” merges aggressive brass and rhythmic dissonance with lyrics disavowing extractive capitalism. While the imagery in “Gimme Bread” is stark. Lines like “Everyone is gasoline / Gimme bread“ fuse excess consumerism with unmet needs. The repetition of “We want bread…Gimme bread“ echoes the resistance movements decrying scarcity and hunger.
Song of the Earth is not a conventional album in the current single-dominant streaming era. There are no sing-along choruses or catchy hooks, and the total runtime requires commitment. Yet, it is an engaging musical experience as each re-listen reveals its innovation, creativity, and nuanced moments of resistance. Song of the Earth is daring and sincere; it is an artistic statement enshrining David Longstreth’s musical versatility.