The greatest music can often be borne of desperation and crisis. While it is impossible to explain why this should be, it is surely linked to the catharsis of creativity being the best coping mechanism. Ezra Furman’s tenth album is a wonderful example of this. On 11 April 2023, she woke ill, limped to the bathroom and lost consciousness. After numerous tests she was discharged from hospital and told that there was nothing wrong with her but subsequently spent months bedbound in pain with no doctor being able to provide a convincing explanation.
This process ended with Furman starting to haemorrhage the songs that would form ‘Goodbye Small Head’, its title borrowed from a line in Sleater-Kinney’s ‘Get Up’. The album consists of what she describes with the vividness and precision that characterise her songwriting as “twelve songs, twelve variations on the experience of completely losing control, whether by weakness, illness, mysticism, BDSM, drugs, heartbreak or just living in a sick society with one’s eyes open.” It contains the drama, epic sweep and ferocious playing of Furman’s band which will be familiar to her fans, albeit with new elements; the use of samples for the first time and eight of the songs include a mini-string section. The songs at their fiercest have the feel of a machismo free Bruce Springsteen undergoing an existential crisis. It is hard to avoid the urge to at least mouth the words passionately – singing along too loudly might prompt the neighbours to call the emergency services.
The opening salvo consists of two songs written in one sitting after a conversation with an epileptic friend about the mystical nature of seizures. ‘Grand Mal’ is named after an outdated term for a major seizure and has a simmering slow drama together with the distinctive characteristics of Furman’s imperfectly perfect voice; it is vulnerable, ragged and slightly nasal but is absolutely right for conveying unsettled emotions. ‘Sudden Storm’ deploys strings to stirring effect as Furman delivers a non-stop rush of words describing electrical dispatches and chemical imbalances as her “body is a city now invaded by the army of the lord.”
With the exception of The Boss, it is hard to think of a songwriter who has made so many references to cars and roads in their body of work as Furman. The third song, ‘Jump Out’, obligingly revisits this trope and conveys being trapped in a moving car by its driver. Building from its cello line, it heads into frantic punk rock’n’roll territory and Furman’s voice becomes ever more dipped into uncontrollable panic.
Another distinguishing characteristic of her work is a frequent grappling with faith and belief, a life-long faith in a God that makes no sense to her yet brooks no doubt but never precludes existential nausea. The drum machine led ‘Power of the Moon’ revisits this theme seeing “a promise from God in a rainbow on an oil spill”, propelled along by engaging bass and slide guitar.
As the shortest song on ‘Goodbye Small Head’ at just over two minutes, ‘You Mustn’t Show Weakness’ crams much into its tiny duration: cello, manic beats, band going full throttle and Furman agonising over the pressure to show strength and have good skin. ‘Submission’ becomes a hymn to the relief of accepting that the “good guys” have no chance against modern evil (“We’re fucked. It’s a relief to say. We’ll see no victory day” followed by a motivational. “I can take a little more”), accompanied by a dramatic, deep guitar and twinkling synth line.
‘Veil Song’ has restrained backing: a gentle acoustic guitar, light organ swirls, brushed drums and even Furman’s voice at its prettiest. The song takes the idea of the bride and reveals the image of veils upon veils, being tongue-tied while “God is silent, all the witnesses are staring.” With its pulsing cello groove, ‘Slow Burn’ is brimming with magnificent melodrama, Furman portraying herself as the girl “who goes to the doctor but doesn’t feel better.” Alongside its pictures of fire, brimstone and angels, it contains one of her best couplets (“Giant white clouds and harps and white garments / these are a part of a separate department.”)
After the slow ache of ‘You Hurt Me I Hate You’ and the Lynchian atmosphere of ‘Strange Girl’, ‘Goodbye Small Head’ builds to a superb climax. ‘A World of Love and Care’ is a landscape of emotional strings and Furman at her most impassioned delivering a manifesto: “Human dignity was supposed to be a guarantee for all / Who gets left out of your dream of a good society / Dream better. Dream bigger. With me.” Surely that ought to be an inarguable worldview yet clearly not for many. Vote Furman! Finally, a cover of Alex Walton’s ‘I Need The Angel’ that starts like a choir of bicycle bells, builds into an anthemic rock’n’roll shower before subsiding with her panting, exhausted and the final barely distinguishable word, “okay.”
With ‘Goodbye Small Head’, Furman captures the primal power of music. These are songs to be swept along by and inhabit completely. Her music sounds every bit as urgent as it did when I first heard ‘Day of the Dog’ twelve years ago which is quite some achievement.
Ezra Furman: Goodbye Small Head – Out 16 May 2025 (Bella Union)
Furman – Jump Out (Official Music Video)
I was editor of the long-running fanzine, Plane Truth, and have subsequently written for a number of publications. While the zine was known for championing the most angular independent sounds, performing in recent years with a community samba percussion band helped to broaden my tastes so that in 2021 I am far more likely to be celebrating an eclectic mix of sounds and enthusing about Made Kuti, Anthony Joseph, Little Simz and the Soul Jazz Cuban compilations as well as Pom Poko and Richard Dawson.
