Hudson Valley-based artist Reeya Banerjee’s latest album, This Place, is a hard-hitting exploration of her past, identity, and transformation. Straddling the hazy lines between memory and reality, This Place captures various moments from Banerjee’s life – deeply personal ones – while still being open enough, such that the listener can easily put themselves into her place.
The album opens with Picture Perfect, which hits you with upbeat, optimistic instrumentals that make you feel like you’ve stepped into a pop-punk meets teen rock universe. Banerjee’s strong, confident vocals and musical energy artfully give you just a peek into the wistfulness that’s to come (“Jump ahead to today, I hear you say ‘We should’ve never left that place’”), before pulling you back into its optimism. It’s the perfect opener, keeping you invested in what’s to come.
Snow is an immediate contrast: carrying a slight ominosity, it has a hint of distortion and muddiness, sounding like it’s coming to you through a frosty window. It takes its time to build an atmosphere that’ll haunt you. It’s deeply confessional, embellished with intricate details (“Cafeteria mac ’n cheese was about as perfect as it could get”) that make you feel like you’re eavesdropping on her thoughts. Blue and Gray is the calm after the storm, so to speak: it’s tender and rich, even in its tentative accusation. It leads us to the album’s darkest, heaviest track: Misery of Place. It pulses with restless guitars and relentless drums, driving the track’s energy. It explores the feeling of being trapped and weighed down in a space you thought would ground you, and the confusion and betrayal that comes with it.
For the First Time is the tentative dawn after Misery of Place’s darkness. It’s vulnerable, hopeful, like an exhale after a deep breath; Runner picks the pace up again, chasing clarity at an exhilarating pace. It takes you back to the energy of Picture Perfect, and this is a moment of beautiful circularity through the album. Sink In is another moment of release – its dreamlike beginning sets the stage for music that’s soft, yet insistent. In an album where everything revolves around perseverance, Sink In is the moment you sit down alone to take stock of everything happening to you.
Good Company arrives to hold your hand and draw you out of your turmoil. It’s warm, reassuring, and safe; it’s the feeling of being in a small bar where you know everyone, and everyone knows you. It highlights the worth of companionship in perseverance, and the album leaves you on a soaring, sweeping, anthemic note with Upstate Rust, which addresses everything that came before it, while refusing to tie it up with a neat bow.
This Place is tender and controlled without veering into overt softness; aggressive and haunting without becoming brash. It’s immersive in its storytelling, inviting you to walk with it as Banerjee converses with you through her music. Give it a listen here!