Madi Diaz – Optimist with Fatalism

      Although it might seem a bit far-fetched to draw a comparison between Madi Diaz and Bruce Springsteen, the timing of the release of 'Fatal Optimist' aligns fortuitously with a resurgence of interest in Springsteen’s 1982 album, Nebraska, particularly with the film 'Deliver Me From Nowhere' and the upcoming Christmas box set for (Gran)Dad.

      However, the similarities between the two albums extend beyond just the evident stripped-down quality of the music. Like Springsteen in the early 1980s, Diaz is a thirty-something songwriter who is well-established in her career and has just come off her biggest successes to date. The Grammy nominations, the critical praise for her latest albums, 'History of a Feeling' and 'Weird Faith', and her collaborations with artists like Kacey Musgraves and Harry Styles have all contributed to her perception as an artist who is at least making inroads into the mainstream.

      Similarly to 'Nebraska', 'Fatal Optimist' is largely an acoustic album that carries a somewhat somber and potentially career-threatening tone. For Diaz, a natural path might have been to create an album filled with radio-friendly songs (many of which she has penned for herself and others), features from big-name guests, and polished production. Instead, she has prioritized artistic integrity over commercial appeal, a choice that has proven to be fruitful.

      This is a sparse and haunting breakup album that draws more from early '70s British folk rather than anything more modern: it channels more Sandy Denny than Carrie Underwood; more Northumbria than Nashville, indicative of a songwriter following her muse and reflecting her circumstances. It narrates the fallout of a relationship that appears to falter while she’s on tour, evident from allusions to flights, time zones, and long-distance calls, intertwined with her conflicting emotions, self-reflection, and occasional moments of brightness. Despite its introspection and almost exclusive use of the first person, it is too insightful and clever to feel self-absorbed.

      Significant thought seems to have been put into the album's sequencing. While not exactly a song cycle, it nonetheless possesses a compelling narrative arc. Opening with a track titled 'Hope Less' is a daring choice, but it concludes with the most lively (and only fully orchestrated) song, 'Fatal Optimist', where she boldly declares, ‘I hate being right.’

      This sketch doesn't do justice to the depth of Diaz’s third album of the decade, as the journey between its two points is captivating. The emptiness of the production enhances rather than detracts from the songs, and by the second track, 'Ambivalence', it becomes clear that this is a writer at her lyrical and melodic zenith.

      To create an album that is musically minimalist necessitates that the lyrics and vocals carry much of the weight, but both are robust: ‘Fatal Optimist’ is, despite its themes, immediately engaging upon first listen and reveals more layers with each subsequent play. Here, her voice is afforded the room to breathe in a way that wasn’t always possible on her earlier records.

      Further rewards for persistence come from the track listing, as contrary to typical sequencing wisdom, the last three tracks might be the highlights, escalating from 'Why’d You Have To Bring Me Flowers?' and 'Time Difference' to the subtly climactic title track.

      A triumph of less is more and substance over quick satisfaction, it’s fascinating to speculate how ‘Fatal Optimist’ will be viewed four decades from now. Will it be a cult classic revived by enthusiasts or a reassessed gem in the oeuvre of a major artist? It may well lean toward the latter, but regardless, its anti-zeitgeist attributes will ensure it remains just as resonant in the future as it is today.

      8/10

      Words: John Williamson