Strange faith

Mandy Diaz

Strange faith

INSTEAD-

February 09, 2024
Web Exclusive

By Caleb Campbell

Mandy Diaz opens Strange faith with a question and a confession: “What the hell do you want?/Cause I'll give you everything I've got.” Those opening lines encapsulate Diaz's sixth full-length album, a record that's often tender and unusual in presentation, but brimming with compelling honesty. Diaz is always more than willing to lay it all on the line. That was certainly the case with her 2021 effort Story of a feelinga record that often seethed with rage and heartbreak, but also brought her new recognition after more than 15 years in the industry.

Since then, Diaz has embarked on her first solo tour in nearly a decade, collaborated with indie darlings like Angel Olsen and Waxahatchee, and even joined Harry Styles' live band. Diaz has received some long overdue recognition, but very little of that new light is visible in the Strange faith. The disc does not live in the shadow of its predecessor as it navigates its sequels. Where Story of a feeling followed the dramatic and often messy breakdown of a relationship, Strange faith examines new love in all its rocky contradictions.

Like Story of a feeling, Strange faith it's a deeply internal album, unwrapping Diaz and leaving her completely open. Where anger and hurt defined her previous endeavor, uncertainty is often the driving force Strange faith, which brings deeper stakes to his lyrics. When Diaz sings about opening herself up on “Same Risk,” love isn't a drug, a long road or a battlefield, it's a “suicide pact.” Obsessive and anxious thoughts swirl throughout the record. “Everything Almost” and “Get to Know Me” chart the walls Diaz puts up to protect herself from heartbreak, holding herself back from fully sharing herself with a partner. Elsewhere Diaz offers vignettes of fading love affairs. He sings about a relationship that's rekindled and fizzled out on “Don't Do Me Good,” a duet with Kacey Musgraves, and recounts the slow death of a long-term relationship on “For Months Now” (I've been leaving you for months now/I just haven't find a way out/I don't love you like I used to/I just don't know how to tell you”).

Despite these lingering fears, Diaz never seems to doubt that her loves are ultimately worth the risk. Interspersed with the disc's saddest confessions are portraits of a warm and pastoral life that Diaz dreams of. “Kiss the Wall” paints the portrait of Diaz's idyllic scenario: “We'll do 50 good years and then we'll both die/Kids will make their own kids down the line/No one will even know we were alive/Except from the garden.” Her dream is fundamentally simple, yet the dark irony is that it is always out of reach, colored by the uncertainties, hurts and resentments that occupy the rest of the album. The answer Diaz seems to find is in the title track, “Weird Faith.” “And I want to learn to leave/And I want to learn to stay/Because every love brings a lesson/And I'll be tested/So I'll have a heart of gold/And I'll have strange faith. “

Diaz rails against this theme of “strange faith,” clinging to the idea that every love has a lesson, and every lesson will bring her closer to where she needs to be. The concept has an open-hearted simplicity, and the album itself is based on that sense of openness. While not necessarily sparse, the instruments on the record are organic and conventional. Diaz often portrays herself as the serene folk singer, drawing you in with just her vocals and guitar, like on “Weird Faith” or “Hurting You.” Yet Diaz and her co-producers also imbue the record's lofty heights with a sense of space and scale, layering tracks like “Get to Know Me” or “Obsessive Thoughts” with echoes, emphatic drums and layers of pounding guitars.

Yet whether Diaz is working with cavernous soundscapes or skeletal confessions, she remains the unrelenting focus. Much like Story of a feeling, Diaz is able to bring the thorny emotions of love to life and render them in a unique voice, all without losing their universality. This remains her greatest strength. Her lyrics are simple and honest, but also speak to complex realities and difficult emotions. He's able to give voice to the innermost thoughts in poetic verse, yet the songs' choruses often fall flat, like on “KFM” when Diaz confesses, “I don't know if I wanna kill, fuck, marry you forever. / God I want to kill, damn, marry you forever.

In these moments he feels he uses a common universal language of confused emotions and conflicting impulses, says more without ever saying enough. This ability to create beauty in simplicity, say more with less and draw resonance from unexpected corners sets the record apart, revealing it as the work of a seasoned and confident songwriter. With Strange faith Mandy Diaz once again gives it her all, crafting a stormy and probing chronicle of falling headlong into new love. (www.madidiaz.com)

Author Rating: 7.5/10