8/10
After three years of anticipation, Alec Duckart, who performs under the stage name Searows, released his sophomore album, Death in the Business of Whaling. Blending indie rock and folk, the Oregon-based musician came onto the scene in 2020, initially releasing music on TikTok. His smooth, stripped melodies flow into belting, haunting vocals that draw comparisons to artists like Phoebe Bridgers and Ethel Cain. His album only expands in scale, featuring his characteristic serenity while seamlessly weaving in new, more intense, and more playful sounds.
Perfect for a mellow road trip, Death in the Business of Whaling is a journey in itself. With most of the nine songs spanning five minutes or longer, Duckraft allows time for each soundscape to develop. He then crafts stories of loss, angst, and resilience. Duckart often searches for inspiration in poetry, emulating extended metaphors and rich imagery gathered from the beauty of the Pacific Northwest. It’s almost impossible to grasp the full meaning of his poetic songs, leaving listeners to discover lyrics that resonate most with them.
Death in the Business of Whaling is loosely inspired by Herman Melville’s 1851 novel, Moby-Dick. A timeless homage to mortality, sea life, and whaling, Duckart titled his album based on one of the novel’s most poignant quotes: “Yes, there is death in this business of whaling—a speechlessly quick chaotic bundling of a man into Eternity.”
With “Belly of the Whale,” Duckart begins the album with a similar humility, surrendering to the introspective vulnerability that defines the album. “I am not invincible / I am measuring things,” he sings. Floating over a steady banjo typical of sailor songs, Duckart gives voice to a long struggle with mental health, still feeling as though he is in the inescapable “belly of the whale.”
As the album progresses, Duckart embraces solace and awe on the single, “Photograph of a Cyclone.” Questioning the damaging cycles he sees within the world and within his life, he longs for genuine authenticity on the path to healing. Duckart frames chaos as a catalyst for art, drawing inspiration from the formidable spirals of cyclones. “God-awful without permanence / I convince myself to need you / Circling the corner of the room,” he sings over a catchy guitar line.
“Kill What You Eat” and “Hunter” both capture the violence and regret within fracturing relationships. They’re some of the weakest songs on the album, remaining particularly flat and repetitive. However, “Kill What You Eat” recovers slightly through rich lyrics and a crescendoing bridge.
“Dirt” is a much stronger track, featuring a beautiful fingerpicked acoustic guitar. It’s heavy, but takes solace in the fleeting nature of feelings. The song begins in a place of suffocation and little control. “The wolves, they will surround you till the circle is closed / Chewing holes in your sneakers when you get too close,” Duckart sings, a metaphor for destructive anxiety. Opening up to a more existential contemplation of autonomy and comfort in the inevitability of mortality, “Dirt” ends with a piercing harmonica, earmarking it the best outro of the album.
“Dearly Missed” embraces storytelling with a flair pronounced by epic rock influences. It builds slowly, with a simple synth and withheld guitar before breaking into gritty electric guitar and drums. In some of Duckart’s most emotional vocals, he explores detachment and revenge while unpacking a rocky relationship. “If I sell you out / Is it so bad?” he sings.
Delving into self-disappointment and escapism, “Junie” and “In Violet” display brutal honesty. “I loved you wrong,” Duckart admits over a playful synth, tambourine, and steady rhythm guitar on “In Violet.” “Why don’t you know / That a plant won’t grow in / The dead of the ocean?” he asks his overly-enthralled partner.
For his final track, “Geese,” Searows vows to persist in light of life’s difficulties. He returns to his signature strumming and humming vocals, singing, “You do not have to do good / But you cannot do nothing.” It’s a composed ending full of resolve, shifting from a heavy album to careful optimism.
Though Death in the Business of Whaling is powerful and poignant, its incredible lyrics can get lost in Duckart’s sometimes unintelligible, humming vocals. It’s a piece where melody and imagery convey as much as the lyrics themselves, grounding listeners in tranquil contemplation and emotions as deep as Duckart’s vulnerability.
