Dylan Forshner’s new EP, “Hopeless Optimism,” presents itself not so much as a collection of songs but as a series of candid diary entries set to intricately picked acoustic strings. This five-song journey from the Welland, Canada artist begins in a place of palpable internal wrestling, where the lyrics – and Forshner’s delivery – map out the grim territories of being overwhelmed, using substances to dull the ache, to simply keep the walls from caving in. His acoustic guitar isn’t just there for melody; it’s a constant, sometimes frayed companion through this emotional landscape.
The production is described as featuring “unconventional instrumental elements” around that central guitar. I didn’t detect, say, a theremin solo lamenting lost car keys, but there’s an interesting texture, a subtle grit. It’s like finding an unusually shaped pebble on a long walk; it doesn’t scream for attention, but you pocket it anyway, its quiet oddness a small point of fascination. There’s a definite nod to the indie pop/rock sphere, that knack for threading heartache with a melody that might just get stuck in your head despite itself.
Then, the EP takes a breath, shifts its gaze. The narrative arc, as promised, bends from this internal siege towards an outward search for connection, for love. And when this solace is seemingly found in another, the entire atmosphere of “Hopeless Optimism” subtly brightens. It’s less a sudden fireworks display and more like the gradual warming of a room when someone finally throws open the curtains on a surprisingly sunny day. Forshner chronicles this shift from desperate seeking to a kind of blissful fulfillment with a sincerity that’s hard to dismiss.
The transition is from a sound that feels like sorting through mental clutter in a dimly lit room to one that suggests finding a path, or perhaps, someone to walk it with. “Hopeless Optimism” – the title itself feels like a key. Does genuine hope only truly resonate once we’ve intimately known its opposite?
