Haikus for Emus’ debut album Someday it Won’t Matter is a pleasant listen, as long as you don't listen too closely. It's music designed to give you the feels, and borrows from a number of genres that have maximized that ability. From the narrative melodramas of the indie-folk/pop set to the heartfelt introspection of oughts-era emo (which was also heavily pop-influenced, thanks Postal Service), Haikus for Emus employs a number of tried and true devices to keep listeners invested and interested.

The band knows their way around a hook and gut punch.

The record mostly uses gentle instrumentation and laid-back tempos to meander through traditional, well-trod chord progressions in service of the pleasant, familiar-sounding vocals. The lyrics are delivered via simple melodies with genre-tested affect. The music sounds professional and it effectively tugs at heartstrings, but at times the sheen of perfection undermines the album’s actual emotional impact.

Pop’s primary weapon is to smooth individual melodrama into something universally digestible. Emo’s rejection of that form was to take the individual melodrama and  weaponize it into something undeniably subjective. One the one hand, Haikus for Emus splits the difference: it presents an individual’s narrative with universally digestible musical tropes.

On the other hand, and crucially, Someday it Won’t Matter isn’t merely dealing with melodrama. Without saying too much about the specific subject matter, I’ll say this is an album full of heart-wrending vulnerability, working through some of the most difficult feelings a human can endure.  The amount of therapy taking place in these songs, juxtaposed with the polish and precision of their delivery, is at once disconcerting, disarming, and yet its own kind of vulnerability.

To put trauma on record is an act of bravery. Sometimes the palatable nature of these songs’ progressions sound at odds with the intensity of the subject matter, but that may be by necessity – as though the feelings couldn’t find shape unless they took a familiar form. I don’t know Haiku for Emu’s process, intentions, or tastes, so I won’t guess. Taken as it’s given, Someday it Won’t Matter is a gift, created by a gifted group of people, expressing something fraught and significant and deeply personal in a way anyone who hears it will understand.