John Andrews & The Yawns, STREETSWEEPER

The slices of life crafted by musician and visual artist John Andrews and his bandmates, collectively known as The Yawns, always have a coziness to them. Though the subjects of his newest record, STREETSWEEPER, are quaint characters and experiences from his Brooklyn neighborhood–snowy sidewalks, the first couple times meeting a new friend–the world they exist in feels tangible, capturing a tenderness not often portrayed as the city’s main facade. Andrews’ musings on his life are more loosely observational than they are decisive, and the sounds on the record reflect that haziness. 

“Goodbye Dirty Snow” comforts like a mother. When the grime of New York cements itself into icy blockades along the winter streets, Andrews promises that it is sure to melt. What comes together falls apart, and what may feel like tragedy is actually just the way things go. “There is no way to know on your own,” he lulls over and over. The downtrodden melody grants space to sulk while a constant drumming keeps things marching on. It feels its pain but doesn’t get tangled up in it.  

The needle on STREETSWEEPER’s emotional compass is this unshakable aversion to bitterness. Lush and lackadaisical, “Through and Through,” manages to find comfort even in spite of what’s left unfinished, incomplete. “I love the paintings / Inside your mind / But you can’t sell a diamond / Before it’s refined” he sings of someone who doesn’t quite have all their ducks in a row. Rather than appraising or admonishing them, he lets them be just as they are, seemingly possessing no impulse for control. “I have nothing but love for you / Through and through and through and through,” he reassures. In “Olivia,” he relishes in the optimism of a budding friendship. “I left my heart wide open,” he sings, “Everyone knows how that goes.” The possibility of getting hurt is obviously there, but it doesn’t scare him away. It’s just part of the deal. 

“My Memory” is one of the record’s weightier tracks, though you wouldn’t know it from the way it sounds. Here Andrews sings about the clouded mind, nostalgia, and how hard it can be to hold your own life in the same hands as you hold the rest of the world. But interlacing his concerns are breezy guitar lines that buoy the sentiment, “It’s okay / Only so much I can do.” There’s an overwhelming display of taking things in stride that consoles and inspires both Andrews and his listener. 

Andrews situates the tender world of his songs within the world of his visual art. The opening track of the album, “Something To Be Said," has an accompanying hockey-themed video that sees him sweeping a puck down the streets (haha) in full garb, interspersed with animations of his painterly counterpart. He’s been known to incorporate such artwork into his live shows and merchandise, as well, creating a sense of completeness and singularity in his artistic presence. Rough brushstrokes, delightfully digestible sounds, and unshrouded lyricism shun pretension, though. It’s all coming from the heart. 

STREETSWEEPER isn’t too lofty in its approach, but it doesn’t need to be. There is something refreshing to its earnestness and its unrelenting acceptance. It feels like a grounded and endearing little corner of the world where you can escape the noise and exist in a simpler way. 

‘STREETSWEEPER’ was released Apr. 3 via Earth Libraries.