I went into Death in the Business of Whaling fully expecting it to be sad. What I did not quite anticipate was just how little respite it offers. This is an album that commits to melancholy with real discipline, almost stubbornly so, and while I respect that commitment, it makes for a listening experience that can feel heavy going if you are not in exactly the right headspace.
‘Belly of the Whale’ is a strong opener and does a lot of the record’s thematic work upfront. I like the chords immediately, but more than that, I like the feeling of suspension. Nothing here rushes. Lyrically, it lands its metaphor cleanly, being stuck, watching things collapse, realising you have been here longer than you thought. It feels like the album’s telling you about the journey you’re about to take.
‘Kill What You Eat’ leans into self-reproach and survival in a way that feels almost physically uncomfortable. It is lachrymose, yes, but not indulgent. There is a sharpness to the imagery that keeps it grounded. ‘Photograph of a Cyclone’ is one of the tracks where everything clicks for me. I really like the chord progression, and the lyrics strike that sweet spot between abstraction and emotional clarity. It feels destructive without being too melodramatic.
‘Hunter’ slows things down again, and while the lyrics remain compelling, this is where I start to feel the album settling into a single emotional gear. Violence, devotion, guilt, longing, they are all here, but the temperature barely shifts. ‘Dirt’ pulls me back in. The guitar picking is lovely, repetitive in a way that feels intentional rather than lazy, and the idea of always being pulled back to the same place works beautifully alongside that looping structure.
‘Dearly Missed’ is one of the album’s most powerful moments. It is harder, more charged, and genuinely unsettling. The narrative it sketches stays with me long after it ends. ‘Junie’, by comparison, feels slight. Thoughtful, yes, but not especially revealing. ‘In Violet’ offers a minor lift in its second half, but by this point the album’s relentless sadness is starting to wear thin for me.
That is why ‘Geese’ stands out so clearly. It might be my favourite song here. It finally feels expansive rather than claustrophobic, emotionally devastating without collapsing inward. As a closing statement, it works.
Death in the Business of Whaling is an accomplished, serious record, and there’s no doubt that Searows is a gifted songwriter. For me, it is an album I admire more than I love. Its depth is real, but its refusal to offer any relief or substantial variation makes it demanding. Still, when it lands, it really lands, and those moments linger.
