Searows – Death in the Business of Whaling

While the cold snaps of winter lead to flaming red cheeks and freezing fingers, indie folk artists often work overtime to make the season a little more tolerable. Alec Duckart of Searows is one of these new-age folk creators, and his debut effort, Guard Dog, proved that although he was a new face in music, his nostalgic melancholy had the power to transport listeners to a place of comfort. Four years later, Searows has crafted an excellent complement to the bitter weather in the form of a brand-new record. Death in the Business of Whaling is a project that is warm yet biting, and solidifies Searows as a defining artist of the season.

On this album, the singer-songwriter presents himself as a master of scene-setting, blending bright acoustic elements with darker rock moments. While Belly of the Whale serves as a sorrowful introduction held together by Duckart’s whispered vocals and a sustained banjo, the rest of Death in the Business of Whaling does not strictly follow suit. Dearly Missed, for example, arrives later in the tracklist with a far more dynamic soundscape, featuring loaded drums and a haunting guitar line that trails behind Duckart’s pleading vocals. Though Dearly Missed is a deeper and more complex production than Belly of the Whale, both evoke the same sense of introspective fatigue and a longing for solace.

With the album’s tone established primarily through sound, Duckart’s lyrics only deepen the emotional weight that so often accompanies the colder months. He offers reflections on life and death throughout the record, and while each song is metaphorically dense and leaves much to the imagination, it is easy for listeners to fully immerse themselves in the world he creates. Kill What You Eat is a prime example: backed by a dreamy steel guitar and light acoustics, Duckart explores how easily one can become consumed by the self and forget the intricacies of the cycle of life. Whether interpreted through the lens of grief or as a broader meditation on survival, the song demonstrates Duckart’s ability to build meaning through metaphor and allow listeners to take it wherever it resonates most.

Hunter carries a similar theme to Kill What You Eat, but shifts its focus toward the fear of sudden injury. It once again highlights the importance of dynamics: the verses gently sway, while the chorus erupts in a controlled explosion. Duckart’s anxiety is palpable through these shifts in sound and tempo, and though the theme remains broad, its emotional reach is multifaceted. Junie, on the other hand, feels rooted in a more tangible narrative. Duckart turns toward love, and while it is the most personal moment on the record thus far, he presents this turbulent relationship as something to observe rather than positioning himself squarely at its centre. Across these songs, it is not that Duckart refuses to lay his life bare, but rather that he invites listeners to experience these ideas alongside him. By the time Geese closes the album, that intention is made clear.

Ultimately, Death in the Business of Whaling is a project that understands the quiet heaviness of winter and meets it with patience rather than resistance. Searows does not offer easy resolutions or sweeping catharsis, but rather a space where reflection, fatigue, and comfort can coexist. When looking back at Searows’ debut four years ago, the careful dynamics, evocative lyricism, and overall thoughtful conceptualisation of Death in the Business of Whaling demonstrate his impressive evolution as an artist. This record is not just a seasonal companion, but a defining statement in the Searows catalogue.