Owen Young’s “Three” EP is like finding a worn, familiar photograph in an old box, only to discover the person in the picture is wearing a lampshade. It’s deeply personal, yet jarringly relevant to the world spinning outside my window. We are dealing with themes of impermanence, the kind that makes you check if the stove is off, twice, every time. You can tell he means it, too.
“Runnin’ Down The River” feels like a dusty lament echoing across generations; there’s a sense of those 60’s dreams of peace, love and understanding dissolving like sugar in tea, and replaced by the salty tang of reality. Then, you find comfort, a shared journey with friends. I’m strangely reminded of when I accidentally used fabric softener instead of laundry detergent, the confusing, fleeting scent of “wrongness.” Life.
Then, there’s “That Could Have Been You,” a stark observation about the folks often swept aside by society’s currents. It isn’t a finger-pointing exercise but a quiet acknowledgment of our shared vulnerability. Each verse is a mini-story with characters that could live next door. We find a man counting coins, victims of displacement and domestic violence, they live a reality many would rather ignore. It feels a bit like that time I tried to bake a cake without reading the recipe, a beautiful mess but with crucial lessons learned.
“Voices In The Dust” circles back to resilience, finding strength in the ‘voices,’ whether those of nature, ancestors, or just echoes from our own past. “Tomorrow in yesterday” is how my brain feels at times. I picture that strange sculpture garden that’s on the side of the highway. Nobody knows why it’s there, but it’s quietly profound.
“Three” isn’t just a collection of songs; it’s a raw, honest conversation. Young doesn’t have answers to life’s mess but the invitation to feel and contemplate them with him. How strange to think about all we hold in these few, precious years, like sand slipping through your fingers and forming shapes anew.
