B-Side Guys

Death shows up halfway through Sylva Faye’s “Sunday Forever,” and he’s surprisingly good company. The encounter forms the basis of “Bones,” where mortality becomes less a looming shadow and more a thoughtful conversation partner. It’s a perfect encapsulation of how Faye approaches her craft on this seven-track collection – taking weighty subjects and finding unexpected light within them.

Twenty years into her independent career, Faye has mastered the art of musical world-building. Each track on “Sunday Forever” opens up like a door into a different room of the same fascinating house. Opening track “Golden Hart” immediately establishes this approach, with Faye’s accordion, mandolin, and flute creating intricate patterns that somehow never tangle. The production, captured at Leicester’s Clarence Street studio, gives these elements space to dance around each other while maintaining their individual character.

“Honeysuckle” stands as the album’s emotional center of gravity, where Faye’s decades of songwriting experience manifest in deceptively simple glory. Dave Donaugh’s cello work provides a rich foundation that lets Faye’s crystalline vocals soar without ever losing their ground connection. The song builds like a sunrise – gradual, inevitable, but never predictable. The interplay between Faye’s mandolin and Donaugh’s cello creates moments that feel both centuries old and brand new.

Then there’s “Bones,” that surprising meditation on mortality that somehow avoids both gloom and forced optimism. The arrangement mirrors the subject matter – starting with whispered intimacy before building to full-bodied acceptance. Each new instrumental layer adds emotional depth rather than mere volume, creating space for contemplation without wallowing in darkness.

The album’s two instrumental interludes, “Bible” and “Angel,” prove Faye’s mastery of the short form. These aren’t mere connective tissue – they’re complete statements that happen to be brief. “Bible” particularly impresses with its use of negative space, letting single notes hang in the air like questions before offering musical responses.

The title track “Sunday Forever” shows what happens when technical excellence serves emotional truth rather than the other way around. HIRO’s guest guitar work weaves through Faye’s arrangements like a golden thread through tapestry, while Joe Doyle’s bass provides the kind of foundation you don’t notice until you try to imagine the song without it. The production seamlessly blends electronic and acoustic elements, creating something that defies easy categorization.

Album closer “One More For The Road” comes as a thrilling left turn, channeling energy from Faye’s experiences watching Yeah Yeah Yeahs perform live. It’s the kind of departure that works because it comes from genuine enthusiasm rather than calculation. After years of session work in hip-hop and folk, Faye knows how to make disparate influences sound natural together.

The warmth of the production throughout “Sunday Forever” serves as a perfect counterpoint to the precision of the arrangements. Each instrument maintains its natural voice while fitting perfectly into the larger conversation. Faye’s cited influence from Kishi Bashi shows in her ability to make complexity feel effortless, but this album establishes its own distinct identity.

Despite – or perhaps because of – its compact 35-minute runtime, “Sunday Forever” feels complete rather than abbreviated. The sequencing shows remarkable care, with each track flowing naturally while maintaining its individual character. Even the interludes earn their place, providing necessary breath without breaking the album’s spell.

There’s something wonderfully fitting about how Faye, now twenty years into her independent career, has created her most assured work yet. “Sunday Forever” succeeds because it marries technical excellence with emotional honesty, complexity with clarity, joy with depth. It’s the rare album that reveals new layers with each listen while remaining immediately engaging. Even that conversation with death turns out to be about living – about finding beauty in unexpected places and having the confidence to share what you find there.