Album Review :
Jacob Goins - A Spring May Well Up

“I have no song in me. There is nothing in that I have to say that my brother can’t say instead,” feels like a fitting set of lyrics for Jacob Goins’ newest collection of largely-instrumental song. Opening track “No Song” sets the scene with a tale of lack: Goins address the God who makes the white snow while admitting his own impurity; he speaks of the God who gives birds flight while he at the same time seems immobile. Thus, A Spring May Well Up is a journey of sorts through deadness and dryness, often conveyed through meditative quietude of sorts.

These days, folk is as much a blanket term as indie. But there is something genuinely traditional about Goins’ arrangements and his vocal style, often cracking in just the right way for a nice bluegrass tinge. Most instrumental music I tend to bump into tends to be largely-modulated post-rock; there is something refreshing (pun maybe intended?) about the more acoustic-based arrangements, which themselves seem to dance around folk, classical guitar, bluegrass, and Americana. Goins’ music is certainly an outlier in many ways compared to the status quo of even independent Christian songwriters, but it acutely captures his meek and thoughtful persona well.

This latest effort sits at 13 tracks, but a majority of these are under the standard three-minute mark, making it a pretty quick listen. Goins jumps between several guidepost vocal-centered tracks (“No Song,” “Garden Song,” “Too Slow to Hear,” “Creekside Prayer,” “Above the Leaves”). Much of the record feels like a walk through the woods, with intermittent field recordings thrown in and references to creeks and trees in no short supply. Goins, from the first track, uses these visible and simple things as metaphors for God’s care and providence. Goins talks about the temptations of this life, especially the temptation to chase renown, but ultimately points toward God as the One Who supplies all.

As far as personal preferences go, I can’t help but lean toward to the fuller songs. When drums, piano, banjo, and other instruments jump into the mix, it rounds the songs out without overpowering the mix. But Goins is very thoughtful with him compositions, employing such dynamic changes sparingly so as to not spoil the magic. That’s why “No Song” works as such a strong opener.

The instrumentals are a mixed bag – from bright and harmonious to dissonant and dark. “Spring” seems to be a double-entendre as far as the album is concerned, relating both to dissolution of dryness and winter alike (which, frankly, can go hand in hand). This is an earthy album through and through, from its gentle, acoustic guitar and piano parts to its lyrical motifs. The title track is a particular standout, showcasing a larger focus on piano and highlighting an incredible rhythm section.

Of course, Goins arguably shines the brightest on his lyrical numbers: “Garden Song” reflects on the beauty and mystery of God’s creation with a bit of a country-blues guitar line; “Too Slow to Hear” is a Sufjan-esque song about being quiet and making space to hear God. Goins’ wife Lauren also lends some nice backing harmonies here; “Creekside Prayer” is a reflection that even in the most beautiful things this side of eternity can not fix our heal us; “Above the Leaves” wrestles with the parallels of the warmth of spring and spiritual renewal. There is no esoteric language, but Goins still has a way of taking the ordinary and wrapping it up with ornamental melodies and and layers.

Personally, I’d prefer a few more local tracks spread in, and having two or three instrumentals between them can sometimes cause things to feel a bit disjointed due to some of the genre-hopping (normally, vocals can serve as at least one consistent element). At the very least, I’d like to see a few more full-band instrumentals at play, but I can also understand that not necessarily fitting the ethos of the record.

Going off the titles, this is an album bound in time and space. It is easy to imagine Goins in his travels, stopping to admire each new town or going down to the water’s edge to pray. There are numerous references spanning the state of North Carolina and its parks and woods as well. And, at the end of the album, it seems to be a return to where it all began, albeit with a new perspective and refreshed hope.

A Spring May Well Up is certainly a welcome subversion to most modern Christian music, opting for an authentic folk feel rather than a cheap hipster knock off. Goins’ voice is gentle, his lyrics contemplative, his instrumental compositions soothing and intricate. This is an nonintrusive and reflective type of record, though I can’t help but feel like having a visual component to at least a few instrumental tracks would help. Sometimes things feel a little scattered, but Goins certainly knows his way around a number of genres and puts them all on display here. Maybe this feels like a weird album as we start to head later into fall, but if you’re looking for music that can remind you of God’s care in your own personal winter, you won’t want to hibernate through this releas.