Raised on Long Island, N.Y., Matt Longo grew up writing short stories—and that strong narrative instinct drives his hauntingly theatrical chamber folk. Drawing from strange historical footnotes, personal memory and a fascination with the supernatural, Many Disappeared (First City) utilizes storytelling as a catalyst for processing grief, uncertainty and the twisted mechanics of human connection.
Thin Lear’s second album was recorded in Memphis with Grammy-winning producer Matt Ross-Spang (Jason Isbell, Margo Price, John Prine) and an impressive lineup of seasoned players, including Ken Coomer (Wilco), Will Sexton (Alexa Rose), Rick Steff (Lucero) and Dave Smith (Kris Kristofferson, Cat Power). From a foundational standpoint, Longo draws on influences as disparate as David Bowie, John Cameron Mitchell, Leonard Cohen and Karen Dalton. In a more topical sense, many of the songs were written in the shadow of personal loss, in particular, the passing of his grandfather.
Longo offers additional color on each track.
—Hobart Rowland
1) “Silver Bridge”
“This song kicked off the writing for the whole record. I’d been compiling a digital folder of odd supernatural occurrences from different eras—and I wasn’t sure why. I’ve written short stories in the past, and I was thinking they’d serve as inspiration there. But then this song arrived—a chorus-less meditation on loss, compounded by an otherworldly experience. It references a bridge collapse in 1967 that claimed the lives of many small-town residents of Point Pleasant, W.V. Prior to the event, people in town claimed they’d seen, and in some cases directly heard from, a winged creature that was prophesying the collapse. That technique of turning to strange folklore as a vehicle for personal meditations became a theme throughout the record.”
2) “Harmony & Gold”
“Those moments of solitude in the direct aftermath of a breakup are such a sensory gift—the rush of memories, the mix of beautiful and negative images. All pain aside, there’s so much to dig into. This song stays in that key moment, when the last bits of furniture and objects that aren’t yours are cleared away. It’s just you and your stuff and your reflections.”
3) “Witness”
“One of my earliest memories is seeing a dying cat in the road with a childhood friend who was way more nonchalant about it than I was. I was horrified and mildly traumatized by the incident, and it continues to serve as a touchpoint every time I’m confronted by mortality and feeling powerless—whether through the loss of a loved one or the general anxiety that the veil between this world and the next is quite thin. I felt self-conscious about how heavy the themes were on this one, so I gave it kind of an upbeat bounce.”
4) “A Cherished Man”
“This song threads together the loneliness of three distinct characters, each with peculiar ways of seeking human connection: a lonely mess of a middle-aged man who makes a fool of himself on a nightly basis for laughs; a young woman whose path to intimacy is poking people with pins on crowded NYC buses (which I swear was happening at one point); and a circus performer who eats all manner of awful things for applause. I wrote this song after reading about showman and eater extraordinaire Tarrare, wondering what his motivations might’ve been for doing what he did—and arriving at human connection, of all things.”
5) “Mattoon”
“Another song pulled from the ‘weird tales’ folder, this one uses the backdrop of the Mad Gasser Of Mattoon incident, where people in 1940s Illinois were either experiencing gassing attacks or going through collective mass hysteria. It centers on a young parent struggling to find connection to her new life as a caregiver—and how the experience brings up cycles of neglect that she herself experienced. So much of this record is driven by a desire to be more connected and needing to navigate all manner of obstacles—real and imagined, emotional and spiritual—to get there.”
6) “The Haunt”
“Years ago, after my grandfather passed, I began having nightly dreams where I’d have these elaborate conversations with him. I’d wake up with the distinct feeling that I wasn’t alone. I remember feeling so frightened of ghosts as a kid, and now I beckoned them in my dreams. Things really change as you get older. But without a real religious or spiritual infrastructure, how do you begin to deal with the total weirdness that accompanies loss? I wondered if the dreams were either my own invention to make myself feel better or a message from beyond—and if, in the end, it even mattered.”
7) “Heavy Dreams”
“As they’re fairly infrequent, I know I need to capitalize on the rare moments of pure confidence. Those moments are often accompanied by the realization that I have so little control over what goes on around me. Whenever I have that clarity, I can always let go of some baggage. The song addresses the feeling of being weighed down by aspirations and the desire to drop the burden. You can let go of expectation, little by little. Once the load lessens, you start to wonder why you were even carrying it to begin with.”
8) “Buddy”
“I’ve watched a number of folks I grew up with get completely eaten up and lost in their 30s in a desperate search to find their way back to who they were … when that door to the past has so clearly shut. I got lost there myself for a time, and it was an unpleasant journey. This one’s a love song to a friend, attempting to call them in from the cold. This is probably the quietest song I’ve ever recorded. We were all barely moving in the studio, as it required such a hushed take.”
9) “The Visit”
“On a trip to Denver a few years back, I spoke with a man who claimed his house was visited by extraterrestrials. All the rooms lit up at night, and he felt the foundation shaking. But when he was recounting the story, it was less about the experience and more about the shame he felt afterward—how he couldn’t recount it to friends and family for years because he knew they’d think he was crazy. It was a real albatross. The visitation was no miracle, and his vibe was, ‘Well, what am I supposed to do with this now?’ The song presents his story and his desire to go back to a time in his life when he’d never experienced anything out of the ordinary.”
10) “Healing Alone”
“Referencing the Blizzard Of ’96 (a weather event of note for all East Coast millennials, which I’ve always wanted to incorporate into song), the closing track brings the record full circle. It presents a man singing to his brother from beyond the grave, pleading with him to let go of the loss and start living his life again. It’s kind of a counter to the crestfallen sentiments in ‘Silver Bridge.’ If the people we loved were still here with us, they assuredly would want us to flourish—not retreat into mourning forever. The crescendo near the end of the song is one of my favorite things I’ve ever recorded. We were able to wring out so much feeling from so few instruments.”
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