Searows dropped a new album, Death in the Business of Whaling, on Jan. 23, and it’s safe to say that I’m completely enamored. Every song is heart wrenchingly beautiful, per usual. This album is truly everything a thought-daughter looks for in music—something that will reach deep into the pits of your soul and kick up the sediment, awakening every repressed memory you have.
On that note, I will preface that Searows is not for everyone. I do understand that it’s not a sought-after desire to listen to music that strips you of your self-identity and leaves you raw and empty. But if you are interested or familiar with the plight of self-inflicted catharsis, I strongly recommend. His music is reminiscent of Ethel Cain or Phoebe Bridgers who I tend to regard as masters of the melancholia-induced trance.
Anyways, my original intention with this article was to rank the songs. However, I’ve had to rearrange the order an absurd amount of times and have found I’m incapable of ranking them definitively. So, the order in which they’re presented is a loose representation of my favorites but truly not at all. With that in mind, let’s get into it.
“Photograph of a Cyclone”
(I think this is my favorite)
Staying true to his Pacific Northwest roots, the beat brings a (relatively) upbeat ambience grounded in folk tones, but when you dive into the lyrics, joy is not the emotion at the forefront of your mind. Due to this disposition, “Photograph of a Cyclone” reminds me of Noah Kahan—another PNW artist who specializes in the high-energy folk beat but drowns you with demoralizing lyricism.
Speaking of…
“Masterpiece destroyer of what’s in front of me”
Gagged. What a poetic way to say “I self-sabotage.” This line is salient in its nature considering self-sabotage is the principle basis of the song. The overarching story, according to Duckart, is “about repeating cycles you learned from your surroundings or culture, and feeling incapable of doing anything different. It’s about witnessing chaos in your world and in your periphery and not knowing what else to do but watch it happen.”
Potent and dynamic, 2:26 is my favorite part as I find it so deeply moving. Not necessarily in a cheerful way, but in an interpretive dance in my room fueled by sorrow and guilt kind of way—hair is down, flying around, we’re spinning, letting the music use us as a vessel. Perhaps we are in mental agony, but we are free.
“Hunter”
As someone who is constantly consumed by empathy, this song is like looking into some sort of haunted, f*cked up mirror. Pardon my French, but this song is insane, so I find the use of expletives fitting.
The build up at 1:19 leading into:
It was bleeding like somebody had shot it
Like someone’s hunting it down and they lost it
Or maybe it was just for sport”
I feel gutted.
One thing I love about Genius is that fellow music-nerds offer up their analysis on the lyrics and I eat it up every time. For the lyric above, one contributor stated, “The “it” that Duckart refers to is likely the heart, as a “bleeding heart” is an expression used to describe someone who feels empathy for the plight of another, often excessively.” That being said, I am in total agreement.
To add to the emotional turmoil:
“I’ll be the hunter when you tell me I need to be.”
Jesus Christ, the resonation is profound. Because yes, as sensitive and consumed by empathy as I am, I can be strong when need be. But the hypersensitivity never leaves. You can’t shed it, but rather, you’re just forced to carry it under a mask. And when the valor, the armor, and the posture of the “hunter” finally dissolves, you’re left holding all of it anyway—only heavier, almost worse.
To embody these seemingly dichotomous roles is to exert every fiber of your being until you buckle under the weight of the world, under the quiet, relentless exhaustion of your own mind. And that is exactly what’s captured at 4:08:
To me, I interpreted this line as the collision of isolation and realization—the understanding that to be a bleeding heart, in many ways, is to be alone.
YUCK! Sorry to add salt to the wound, but now that I have beat the dead horse to an extent that can only be characterized as unprovoked brutality, we can move on. 😊
“In Violet”
(Wait no I think this is my favorite)
The beginning of this song sets a liminal, Daliesque setting, as if you’ve been driving all night along a cold, foggy coast, consumed by everything that has ever happened to you.
Picture this: In the weight of it all, the sun begins to rise and the light serves as a reminder that everything will be okay. Duckart portrays this feeling with the transition into the soft indie folk beat.
Not that that’s what the actual song is about but that’s what the instrumentals are giving. Beyond this story I’ve constructed, let’s get into the actual lyrics because they are teeming with symbolism.
I saw you wasting everything you ever had”
These few lines encapsulate, in my humble opinion, what it’s like to be in a relationship where you lose pieces of yourself, trying to get your partner to live up to their potential, only to watch you slowly drift apart in the absence of their growth.
Now, fast forward to
“I’m a sinking boat. Why don’t you know that a plant won’t grow in the dead of the ocean”
I believe Duckart is detailing how, inevitably, they lost their potential in this relationship because they were being held back—they were dating someone who was stuck in a place they had outgrown. Perhaps their partner asked and asked and asked, but didn’t give. Or perhaps he was the anchor. Either way, there was no water in the relationship for it to be sustainable.
“In Violet” is particularly important to the entirety of Death in the Business of Whaling, because it was the single he released prior to dropping this brick of pure desolation. According to Alec Duckart himself, “the song is essentially about not living up [to] the version of yourself you wanted to show to someone, and the various types of disappointment that go with that.” He goes on to say that the song encapsulates the “fantastical epic that lives up to the weight and the drama that those emotions feel like they have in real life.” Let me just say—he nailed it.
“Belly of the Whale”
(I lied. This one is my favorite)
As soon as the first chords started to play, I knew this song was going to become a new favorite. The intro reminds me of “Ceilings” by Lizzy McAlpine coupled with “A Quick One Before the Eternal Worm Devours Appalachia” by Lizard in the Spring (Yes, I have put some serious thought into this). The instrumentals are gentle and somber.
As he sets the tone, we immediately are forced to get vulnerable and confront ourselves:
I am watching the walls again”
//
“I’ve been here for a long time
I am still in the belly of the whale”
These lyrics paired with the soft, melancholic humming that fades out the song feels like a stab wound. His voice is so ethereal, yet displays so much control. Is listening masochistic? Perhaps, it could be argued, but I find it so deeply beautiful that his music is so viscerally impactful.
“Dearly Missed”
Duckart’s angelic voice, so faint and fragile at first slowly builds into something commanding. The rhythm shifts right after “What happened in August,” giving it a confrontational edge. The music mirrors this seeming conversation, as after “a change in the mood,” the rhythm adjusts to meet the gravity of the dialogue.
This song hits incredibly and painfully deep.
I really need you to help yourself”
As Duckart sings these lines, you can hear both the ache and the power in his voice, begging for a result that’s completely out of his control. Paired with the heavy guitar chords, this song is an out-of-body experience. The story portrayed is classic: the realization that there’s nothing left to do but watch someone you love suffer at their own hands. Yet, you simply cannot endure their suffering for them anymore, so you beg them to help themselves.
Duckart’s emotion in the bridge building up to the chorus is so raw and powerful that I feel it vibrating my vertebrae. His music goes beyond auditory experience, transcending into full body chills. At least that’s my experience. And the guitar outro? Chef’s kiss.
At its core, the song is about watching someone you love lose themselves, knowing you’ve already done all you can. The choice is theirs now—but they won’t help themselves. Can’t or won’t, it doesn’t matter. The result is the same: you’re stuck as the observer. All you can do is beg. And hope. Because your love won’t save them. Alright I’m done twisting the knife.
For the sake of time, and your attention span, I will stop the song analysis here, but I seriously urge you to listen to this album in its entirety. Death in the Business of Whaling consists of nine songs, all in which deserve attention. I believe this album to be perfect for a night of solitude, journaling, dim lighting, and warm tea. Cuddle up and let everything come to the surface. Some may say listening to sad music is masochism, definitionally, but I wholeheartedly believe that giving yourself the space to feel is self-care—as uncomfortable as it may be.
As you can see, I’m concerningly serious about this album. I fell in love with Searows when I discovered his 2023 single, “House Song.” The deep, raw, and mysterious nautical nature of his music took me prisoner instantly. I listen intently, and I listen wholeheartedly. I believe that to be what true music entails. So, if you’re ever in a position where you’re yearning to feel something, I advise that you listen to this album. I can’t guarantee what you feel will be objectively positive, but feel nonetheless you will, and you will be irrevocably changed.