Kurt Vile has perfected his paradox in Bottle It In (2018). He sings whimsically about darkness. He stumbles over his words gracefully, looking for meaning. He articulates his thoughts with abstract precision. He bottles it in, pouring out his soul only for it to go into another bottle.

In the album’s opener, “Loading Zones,” Vile declares that he is in charge of the next 78 minutes. If he wants three 10 minute songs and an average song length of six minutes, then that is his sacred prerogative. The song imagines a small, dirty town over which Vile governs as mayor. He contemplates his purpose in this album, and as an artist in general:  

“How beautiful to take a bite out of the world
I want to rip the world a new one
It just crawls out of my mouth anymore
You can hate on it or you can hug it”

Vile’s music delivers like a published diary — beautiful to read, but written with the intention of never being seen. And like a diary, the lyricism captures the writer’s unfiltered and vulnerable truth. His authoritative declaration dissipates throughout the album, as Vile finds himself as lost as the listener.

“Bassackwards” showcases Vile’s transitive and dynamic lyrics. The words lead the listener into his mind. Only, the leader is wandering himself, unsure of what to make of his world:

I was on the beach but I was thinking about the bay
Got to the bay but by then I was far away
I was on the ground but looking straight into the sun
But the sun went down and I couldn’t find another one

“Bassackwards” has an extemporaneous quality to it, as if to suggest its immaculate conception. Vile’s flow, and the authenticity it represents, comes largely from his ability to compose guitar progressions that could play on endlessly, but without boredom. Vile builds his songs like a carelessly, yet perfectly, composed fruit bowl.

Despite his insistence that he is just “Rollin’ with the Flow,” there is an inherent darkness in the album.  Vile explores this darkness through the metaphor of mutinies. “Mutinies” suggests that Vile’s mind is not intrinsically sinister. Rather, these mutinies are pulling him, against his will, into darkness. He describes the “small computer in [his] hand explodin’” as he takes “pills and pills.” Vile has lost his autonomy; he has not become that mayor of great authority he had wished to be.

The album ends with “(bottle back).” The song, composed entirely of the dings and beeps of a computer, is not exactly a piece of art in its own right. Rather, its gives the album a sense of finality. Its inclusion suggests that the “small computer” Vile worries about in his hand indeed has the final say.

The perfection of this album is found not in its parts, but the whole. It describes a journey through disillusionment;  it is not a journey ending with loss, but rather, a journey of loss.

Written by Hannah Hartt