The Worse Things Get, the Harder I Fight, the Harder I Fight, the More I Love You
Neko Case
Released by Anti Records
Neko Case’s new album, The Worse Things Get, the Harder I Fight, the Harder I Fight, the More I Love You, is a gripping dance between despair and dark beauty.
Case, who is also a member of The New Pornographers, explores her own ghosts through powerful vocal lines and clever lyrics on her sixth solo album.
All of Case’s struggle and strife comes through on the album, and there are some moments that are truly heart-wrenching. However, Case seems to be very aware of the beauty that comes from tragedy, and she’s embraced it to create this album.
The album feels like walking through a dark forest, each song a branching evergreen that thickens the very air of the music.
“Night Still Comes” is Case’s take on what it means to please herself instead of other people. With a defiant calm, she sings “I revenge myself all over myself/there’s nothing you can say to me.” Later in the song, she ponders the same about her art, asking “If I puked up some sonnets/Would you call me a miracle?”
She continues to take an independent outlook on her own life in the more upbeat “Man.” The song drives forward at a solid tempo with distorted guitar licks sprinkled throughout. When it hits the chorus, the song breaks into a temporary baroque-infused interlude, where Case sings “I’m a man’s man/I’ve always been.”
“Nearly Midnight, Honolulu” is an a cappella song where Case’s strong vocals get a chance to shine alone, backed only by her own harmonies. In the middle of an album that is musically thick, the barebones song is spectacularly jarring.
Plenty of anger is also seen in the album, albeit in reserved flashes. “City Swans” and “Man” both see flashes of distaste and rage in them from time to time.
Nevertheless, the despair is what bleeds thickest through the album. She explores a half dozen iterations of despair ranging from the wilderness feeling of “Wild Creatures,” to empty loneliness on “Afraid,” to the fearful overhang of doom on “Where Did I Leave That Fire.”
The album’s closer, “Ragtime,” starts with a quietly chugging guitar and simple drums, but builds as it goes. An organ calls out behind the music as the drums change, and then a stunning, optimistic horn line punctures into the song. The song builds to a climactic finish, with horns crying out behind Case’s voice. After the heavy darkness that weighs on the album, the triumphant ending brings about hope and optimism.
