When
Shamir released his debut album,
Ratchet, he was barely 20 years old; when he made his aptly named tenth full-length
Ten, he was on the cusp of turning 30 -- a span of years filled with life-altering changes even for people who aren't in the public eye. From
Hope onward,
Shamir documented his turbulent ups and downs with unflinching honesty and wit, a tradition he continues on
Ten. On each of the album's ten songs, he chronicles his musical growth and his growth as a person. More often than not, they go hand in hand. When he calls out unhealthy relationships with elegant directness on "I Know We Can't Be Friends" and puts himself first on "29" (key lyric: "I want more than a bedroom in Hollywood somewhere just trying to get by"), it feels like something deep inside him has changed.
Shamir still excels at updating the sounds of 1990s indie and alternative rock for the 21st century -- the joyous crash of "Die" rivals
Smashing Pumpkins' "Today" -- but he always puts a different spin on his music, even if he's summing it up on
Ten. There's a subtle but noticeable steadiness and warmth that feels new, whether on "I Love My Friends"' chugging celebration of chosen family or the sunlit folk of "Golden." Though
Shamir doesn't shy away from maturity (when he sings "my greatest desire has always been peace" on "I Don't Know What You Want from Me," it's one of the album's most affecting moments), there's still plenty of youthful energy on "Neverwannago," a piece of sunny indie pop written by friend and collaborator
Andrew Harmon. That
Ten's tracks may have been written by others or left off of
Shamir's other albums doesn't detract from how right they feel coming from him at this point. These manifestos for the next stage of his life should be relatable to anyone who's been through the crucible of their twenties, and if this really is
Shamir's final solo album, it's a worthy capper to a self-described "anti-career" filled with musical surprises and genuine emotion. ~ Heather Phares
.
