a song for you: "Ice Cream" by The Cottonwood Shivers

photo: @thecottonwoodshivers on Instagram

London-born Will Adlard debuted music project The Cottonwood Shivers just this year, and has already produced two beautifully vivid singles that Saint Paul, MN, should proudly boast.

The vocals and guitar in “Ice Cream,” his second single, evoke Alexi Murdoch’s song “All My Days” — truly, the vocal resemblance is uncanny — and anything off Ben Howard’s Every Kingdom. Adlard’s clever lyricism and expert melodies transport us to a spring day spent chasing the beginning of something (though we know in our heart it may never be anything more than a beginning).

A peaceful, welcoming guitar opens the track, introducing a melody that nestles itself in seamlessly and carries over each phrase. Adlard’s voice envelops the listener in calm as the notes seem to ascend and descend a small peak:

“And afterwards you can hold my hand and tell me about your new favorite band.”

The guitar builds very delicately as the song progresses, a full sound that blends with the vocals to stretch all around you.

“And I see your face through the window, you wave to me hello,” is potentially the most beautiful line, in voice and in lyrics, in this track. The range hits a lower pitch that bleeds from the former verse to the next chorus like watercolors, simple phrases emphasizing the sweet of the cold; as he says, “You’re ice cream, baby.”

Brought to me, and now you, by Mpls.St.Paul Magazine’s Minnesota Playlist: February, the single is described by the editors as the feeling you get when you wave to a friend on the street and belatedly realize it isn’t them after all.

For me, it’s the warm feeling you get when you think of someone you love, even though most of the time they may treat you coldly. This song is the sun of a spring day and the coolness of someone turning away from you at the last second.

All through this track, but most especially in the bridge — which features both grittier instrumentation and smoothly sliding notes — is the image of driving westward, looking up at the sunlight streaming through green trees. After learning that Adlard spent time in Portland, OR, it all starts to click together. His first single, “Dandelion,” is a springtime sort of haunted which also carries that same green imagery; at first listen, you close your eyes and see the pacific northwest.

The yearning doesn’t cease as the song begins to wrap up — “I’ll melt into a pile of dreams if you don’t come down and be with me tonight” — always maintaining its light melancholy.

Excitedly awaiting an album.