There are songs that wash over you, songs that creep in through the cracks, and then there are songs that pull you under entirely, submerging you in something vast, strange, and undeniably beautiful... Grizzly Bear’s ‘Ready, Able’ is one of those songs - one that doesn’t just play, but breathes, stretches, morphs, and dissolves like ink in water.
Funs, a friend of mine, who happens to be the drummer in a local Maastricht band, is the instigator behind my newfound interest and subsequent deep dive into psychedelic folk and art rock. On the way up to Laren this evening I listened, for the umpteenth time, to his recommended 2009 Grizzly Bear album, Veckatimest, in full – with my eyes closed and noise-cancelling headphones on…
(But if there’s a proper way to experience this album, it’s alone, in a safe space, lying on the floor with the lights dimmed low and the volume up. No distractions. Just complete immersion.)
Sitting here in the hotel room with little to do in prep. for tomorrow's symposium, I feel compelled to write about one Grizzly Bear song in particular... the fever dream called ‘Ready, Able’ - a shimmering mirage of longing, uncertainty, and something unspoken lurking beneath its swirling rhythms.
The song begins almost hesitantly, a distant pulse of plucked strings and delicate percussion, before slipping into a loose, elastic groove that feels both gentle and unsettling, like the tide pulling at your ankles. Daniel Rossen’s vocals arrive like a ghost through fog, softly unravelling, with stretching words that add another layer to an already complex rhythmic “cathedral”(as Funs so accurately labelled it). I’ll copy in the lyrics from Genius below…
I'm going to take a stab at this
Surely we'll be alright
Make a decision with a kiss
Maybe I have frostbite
And when I shuffled on back home
I made sure all of my tracks in the snow were gone
Tissue and bones it was a tryst
This isn't a gunfight
Checking it off of my list
Unable to rewrite
Five years, countless months and a loan
Hope I'm ready, able to make my own good home
They go, we go, I want you to know
What I did, I did (x6)
There’s something liquid about ‘Ready, Able.’ Each element - whether it’s the rippling synths, the echoing drum, or the vocal harmonies - feels like it’s melting into the next. The bass line moves like a slow river, shifting effortlessly beneath a surface of what I’d call “orchestral” flourishes. It’s absolutely complex.
In trying to understand how something so fluid can feel so multidimensional, Funs - who plays a motley of instruments but primarily drums - broke it down for me. While the vocals (and what I assume is a harp) follow a waltz-like 3/4 measure, the drums stay in a steady 4/4. Some sections shift into 6/8, while the synth layers triplets over it all. It’s kind of insane. And the payoff at around the 1:50 mark? Just… ahhh. Haha.
The lyrics themselves are elusive, never quite revealing their full weight. “I'm gonna take a stab at this, sure you will be alright”… The constantly shifting music video, directed by Allison Schulnik, mimics the way the words undulate, never settling long enough to pin down a singular meaning. It’s magic. “They go, we go, I want you to know what I did, I did” – the final lines loop on repeat… The lyrics are beautiful.
Grizzly Bear – Ready, Able > source
The stop-motion "claymation" (for want of a better word) pulses with surreal figures - half-formed, melting, reforming, vanishing. Faces crumble, creatures dance, and worlds collapse in slow, hypnotic waves. The figures - distorted and dreamlike - mirror the song’s strange, underwater quality, giving it a depth that feels tactile yet intangible, like holding a handful of water… If that makes sense.
Anyway, I felt so inspired to write about this because there are few songs that feel as alive as the music in Veckatimest. ‘Ready, Able’ breathes. It shifts. It never truly resolves. There’s something deeply sensual in the way it moves, in the way it presses up against your consciousness and refuses to leave…
It makes sense, but then it doesn’t.
But maybe that’s the point. Maybe some songs aren’t meant to be fully understood. Maybe some are just meant to pull you under.
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Photographs: unless otherwise noted, all images were taken by me with an iPhone 8.
