by Jen Rose Yokel
Every piece of art holds a piece of the artist. We bring our whole selves to the creation of it, laboring, pondering, and curating before offering it to an audience. At best, our creations can become sacred ground—deeply personal and meaningfully connective because they have something true to say. The audience’s job is to bear witness and possibly let themselves be changed.
So maybe that’s why it’s taken me so long to finally get words around Interloper, Zane Vickery’s new full-length album. Music that sticks with me the most has always been born of honest wrestling. With soul-deep songwriting and a massive sound, this 77-minute epic does just that. It’s a furious, tender exploration of what it means to brush up against death and live to pick up the pieces.
In October 2022, Vickery suffered a head-on car crash that left the other driver dead and left him with months of physical, mental, and spiritual healing ahead. Not every song is about that event, but it serves as a throughline for all the questions about suffering, and it sets the stage for the spiritual unraveling that can accompany trauma. As the early single “Whatever Light We Have” lands on an ominous image–“I think I see headlights on my side of the road”—the personal reckoning begins. (Listen to Matt Conner talk with Zane about this very song on the Rabbit Room’s Deepest Cut podcast.)
This is an album of dualities. Hope and forgiveness push back against despair and rage. Some of the album’s standout moments can be the most brutal to listen to. I am struck every time, by the rawness of “The Grateful and Grieving,” as he imagines the final hours of the driver who died in the accident. It’s a hard look at the aftermath of a miracle, when the suffering of recovery and survivor’s guilt becomes almost too great to bear, knowing you are “living to die again.” It’s about the acceptance that comes in the end and asking, “What will I do with the time I’ve been given?”
Then there’s “Honest,” a song that exposes and exorcizes the wounds left in a broken father/son relationship. “Not even a phone call and I very nearly died/I can’t let you go, I’ve tried.” Even more striking is the empathy woven into these songs, where would-be villains are imagined as broken humans with their own traumas. Forgiveness is an antidote to rage—for the driver, for his father, even for himself.
It’s not all darkness though. Ultimately, this is an album about healing, and the album’s hinge point comes in “The Weight.” Longtime listeners will recognize this as a reworked version of Breezewood’s opener, “Weighted,” but in light of the surrounding songs, these lines take on a whole new depth of meaning:Give me hope, round a corner or behind some doorOh, I’ve been so disappointed before… is my grief something to comprehend?I’m sick of making mistakes, look me in the eye and make me sureThat it’s all worth the weight.
And still, even when it gets heavy, this album is musically such a fun listen, especially if you have a soft spot for late 90s and 2000s rock (like me). Once the second half gets going, it’s riffs in “YDWMA” and heavy post-hardcore in “Big Things Coming,” and even a playful 80s pop vibe to the heartfelt love song “Hydrangea” (complete with sax solo). Thoughtfully produced throwback sounds lend an extra measure of joy to such heavy material. After all, sometimes the best thing we can do is turn up loud guitars and scream back at the darkness.
There’s a lot more to say about Interloper. It’s one of those records that continues to deepen with every listen, and really is best experienced from start to finish, all at once. Come for the soaring choruses and nostalgic sounds. Stay to bear witness to suffering and healing, and perhaps find yourself and a little healing too. In more ways than one, it’s a gift this album exists in the world.
You can stream Interloper wherever you listen to music. Also, don’t miss Matt Connor’s conversation with Zane Vickery on The Rabbit Room’s new podcast series, The Deepest Cut.
Jen Rose Yokel is a poet, writer, and spiritual director. Her words have appeared at The Rabbit Room, She Reads Truth, and other publications, and she is the author of two poetry collections. She is also the co-founder of The Poetry Pub, an online community for poets. Originally from Central Florida, she now makes her home in Fall River, Massachusetts with her poet/professor husband Chris, their rescue dog, and an assortment of books and houseplants. Her latest book, Beneath the Flood, is available now from Bandersnatch Books. You can find her on Substack at Alongside Journal or on Instagram @jroseyokel.
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