From Edgar Allen Poe and his poem “The Raven” to Vincent Van Gogh’s “The Starry Night,” some iconic artists are forever tied to their most famous work. For Poe, despite publishing over 70 poems, 68 short stories, a multitude of essays and a novel, “Quoth the Raven ‘Nevermore’” will be the line people remember when reflecting on his work. And while these two greats died well before the world celebrated their talent (Poe at 40 and Van Gogh at 37), most artists admit that being globally respected for one piece of work is better than none at all.
For Hozier, rightly or wrongly (mostly wrongly), his evolving discography will be endlessly measured against his juggernaut debut single “Take Me To Church” from 2013. Like a beacon of befuddling light that draws your attention away from the magnificent scenery upon which it sits, Hozier’s body of work has sat in the shadows of his most significant hit. Now, 10 years and two albums later, the Irish singer/songwriter returns for his boldest work yet, Unreal Unearth.
Hozier could sing Facebook’s Terms and Conditions and make them sound gorgeous. Sitting between Ben Howard and Father John Misty, his vocals are in the upper echelon of music, showing effortless anguish and soaring beauty with ease, showcasing complete mastery over his far-spanning range. While his sophomore record, Wasteland, Baby!, may have been too much of a pursuit to recreate past success, Unreal Unearth finds Hozier stepping fully into where he was made to be. The album is dazzling, multifaceted, patient at times and urgent at others—it will cast you out far and reel you back in just as fast.
We wade into the record with “De Selby (Part 1),” a hauntingly stripped-back tune complete with Gaelic lyrics and a string ensemble that foreshadows the aural aesthetics of the robust 16 tracks to follow. “De Selby” takes its name from a quirky, unseen philosopher portrayed in The Third Policeman novel published in the 60s, where he paradoxically examines human existence, a constant theme throughout Hozier’s own musings.
This is one of many throwbacks to literature, as the well-read Hozier is known to do. A major recurring nod is to Dante’s Inferno, written in the 1300s, with song titles and themes referring to moments in the epic poem. The exploration of the soul—both Dante and De Selby examine the human experience profoundly, and what better catalyst for our own examinations than utter isolation and lockdown in the form of a global pandemic. Hozier began writing many of the songs on Unreal Unearth during COVID, and the project’s stark intimacy unspools across the record. However, despite some grandiose moments, the album always feels reined in—with background static, chairs creaking and the clicking of drumsticks changing hands. More than ever, Hozier is filling a record’s vacant space with familiarity.
“De Selby (Part 2)” and “First Time” are two of the brighter songs on the record. The juxtaposition of “Part 1” with the former represents darkness and light and the journey Hozier wants us to take across the album. Similarly to Dante’s Inferno, there’s an employment of perseverance through the darkest moments in order to find brightness. After the eclectic opening trio of songs—where we are given a smattering of disco and funk beats and Hozier’s widened octave range—we are gifted back-to-back delicate ballads that arrive like a gentle breeze carrying memories through the open window of the soul.
These songs are undeniable reminders that the stripped-back ballads of the boundaryless outweigh the sum of the remaining R&B and more contemporarily structured songs on the album. In particular, “Eat Your Young,” “De Selby (Part 2)” and “Damage Get Done” still carry that steadfast Hozier weightiness that ultimately clips him into a creative car seat instead of letting him run free. Tucked into the final nooks of the album are these exact moments—the blueprint of where Hozier should continue to lean, the spare and precise guitar alone with his voice to roam. There are no better examples of Hozier’s pure talent than on these tracks, shown on the slow burns of “Butchered Tongue” and “Unknown / Nth”—exhibitions of fearlessness that avoid any cookie-cutter structures or verse/chorus monotony that might smother the airwaves. At this stage of his career, he’s earned the right to do things his way.
Unreal Unearth is packed full of poetic lyricism, heavyhearted remorse, hopeful anticipation and an honest expression of the joys and sorrow of being a human. This is undoubtedly his best work. The more straightforward tracks may be too saccharine at times, but Hozier’s gravitational artistry more than makes up for any slight missteps off the path. The song order is an improbable hero, as the pacing and experience the listener goes through only accelerate the impact. There is a sharp balance across the entirety of Unreal Unearth—it’s never top-heavy nor is it ever stagnant, the sonic IV constantly dripping musicality into your body. From choir swells to poetic lines that find a way to hit you unexpectedly, the album is a tremendously soulful experience.
If we are to follow the “Nine Circles of Hell” from Dante’s Inferno, then Unreal Unearth follows similarly—with Hozier ending the record on an optimistic high. The album and its songs don’t directly reflect the literature, but the emotional journey of its 16 songs demonstrates the journey of Dante that was written 600 years ago. Dante Alighieri’s final words as he escapes the depths of hell are: “And then we came out to see the stars again.” It’s a feeling of optimism and rebirth, and, on the finale “First Light,” Hozier sends us off with a parallel feeling, of emerging from the shadows to see the glow once again.