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Maia Sinaiko and Susanna Thomson like to joke that they are delusional about Sour Widows, the Bay Area band they started seven years ago that is just now releasing its entrancing and powerful debut LP, ‘Revival of a Friend’. In those seven years, Sinaiko and Thomson each endured losses and hardships that at times required putting bigger plans on hold; looking back, they can only laugh at these hurdles and wonder if they should have taken them as signs—to stop, to start over, to succumb to the hardship.

Absolutely not: Sour Widows has served as an essential outlet for Sinaiko, Thomson, and drummer Max Edelman, a way to process real-time woes so as to transmute them into something beautiful, useful, real, and lasting. It has been an anchor, too, keeping them lashed to reality as the world roiled around them. ‘Revival of a Friend’ is their collective testament to that process, an hour-long lesson in endurance that is years in the making. Inspired by the folk singing of their youth, the grit and grace of Joni Mitchell, the slowly spiraling dazzle of Duster, and the steady angularity and sudden snarl of Slint, ‘Revival of a Friend’ fully recognizes the arbitrary cruelty of individual existence and finds that some of the best ways beyond it are to share harmonies, a tangle of electric guitars, or a song that simply imagines hope somewhere on the other side. Methodically built over many years with longtime friend and trusted drummer Max Edelman, this is a poignant and gripping record about the pain of growing up and getting on with it.

However pervasive it is, grief is not the only takeaway on the album. Sinaiko, Thomson, and Edelman are still here, after all, in a great DIY rock band that is a gathering of best friends, having made a mighty record that encapsulates and so sublimates all this anguish. It feels especially relevant that it emerges as a work of friendship from the Bay Area, dominated in recent years not by stories of the arts but instead by technology and the inequality it has wrought there. ‘Revival of a Friend’ is rooted in personal hurts, but it feels like an invitation to band together and work through our pains as one, to share the burdens of the world until we can find a better way forward. This is not delusion; this is hope, as difficult and necessary now as ever.

Nick Llobet (they/them) was ready to throw in the towel. Llobet, who grew up in South Florida, learned to play guitar at a very young age, dabbling in everything from classical, blues, classic rock, and flamenco. They’d spent much of their early 20s searching for their voice as an artist and as an individual, as well as for a musical community. Llobet would eventually move to Brooklyn, but after three years of looking for a hopeful artistic breakthrough, they spent much of their time in seclusion, consumed by social anxiety and imposter syndrome—and they were considering abandoning songwriting completely.

One day, while commuting through Penn Station and en route to their partner’s family home in Virginia (that would also lead to the crucial purchase of a secondhand Tascam cassette recorder), they noticed Patti Smith sitting alone, waiting for a train. The typically shy Llobet decided to approach the icon, who was, in turn, delighted to see that Llobet was carrying a guitar. At the end of their interaction, Smith offered some parting wisdom: “She wished me luck and said, ‘Practice hard, Nick.’”

Llobet took her advice to heart, and this chance encounter kicked off a personal and artistic rebirth. They started performing as youbet, a play on their last name, and began “changing [their] vision for what a song could be.” Eventually, this journey resulted in youbet’s latest record, Way To Be. Across 12 delightfully off-kilter tunes, Llobet uses wordplay and tongue-in-cheek humor to obliquely explore dysfunctional relationships, regret, self-confidence or the lack thereof, queerness, and self-discovery. Fuzzy at the edges and filled with playful, kinetic arrangements, Way To Be is a bridge into the entrancing world of youbet. You won’t want to leave.

Way To Be arrives four years after youbet’s debut, Compare & Despair, a delightful gem of a record that showcases Llobet’s propensity for freewheeling whimsy and emotional intensity. In May 2019, they were inspired by a song-a-week writing group that produced Compare & Despair. Llobet decided to helm a second club in which contributors would upload that week’s song to a private Bandcamp. Invigorated by this small musical collaboration, the feedback, and the accountability, Llobet wrote 18 songs throughout the duration of the club (Twelve of these songs became Way To Be).

After this songwriting marathon, Llobet spent 2020 focusing on instrumental guitar work and political engagement. By the summer of 2021, they were ready to revisit the Way To Be tracks. Over the next year-and-a-half, Llobet worked on the record relentlessly, refining the lyrics, recording, and arrangements from their apartment. Llobet self-produced Way To Be and describes the process as an enormous, labor-intensive undertaking that felt akin to “making a whole film.” Along the way, Llobet was joined by collaborators, including Julian Fader (Ava Luna), Adam Brisbin (Buck Meek), and Daniel Siles.

Llobet is also an abstract storyteller, preferring to structure songs around snapshots of their life. Take “Carsick,” Way To Be’s lead single, which dances around Llobet’s frustration with their own addictive personality. “I tend to do things in excess, I like to party, sometimes a little too hard,” they say, “I wish I could be more in control of myself, hence the lyric ‘Knowing when to stop/It must be sweet.’”

Many of these songs touch on the duality of self-love and self-loathing, like on the downcast “Nurture.” But even when the subject matter is heavy, playfulness is an intrinsic part of Way To Be. Across the album, darkness is regularly softened by Llobet’s inclination towards lightheartedness. “Seeds of Evil,” a topsy-turvy study of self-criticism, plays with this contrast, pairing a lovely melody with devilish lyrics about losing perspective. “It’s choose your own adventure music,” Llobet says. “I like to keep listeners on their toes.”

Indeed, the songs on Way To Be are unpredictable, and each listen offers the opportunity to dig into a new aspect of the album, from Llobet’s distinctively high voice to their complex guitar playing. “Peel,” which combines the Flamenco guitar techniques Llobet studied as a teen with a rhythm inspired by Maybelle Carter, is especially invigorating. The most labor-intensive track on the album, Llobet says that “Peel”’s lyrics—“I tried a dream/And took it too far”—reflect their exasperated mental state during the writing process. Through its nods to Llobet’s musical education and Miami beaches, “Peel” connects their past and present.

Llobet concludes, “Every song I birth is an opportunity to reinvent myself and gives me a chance to perform through a different spiritual filter. Each song is like a creature that lives within the depths of my soul, waiting to be written. I have this growing collection of spirit demons that keep me company in my creative life.”