There is nothing conventional about Trevor Hall. He was born in the affluent town of Greenwich, Connecticut, then raised in the resort community of Hilton Head Island, South Carolina, where he released his first album at 16 years old. Hall then left for California to study classical guitar at a music academy in the San Jacinto Mountains, discovering the spirituality that has permeated his nine studio albums and other projects, including his most recent record, Trevor Hall and The Great In-Between.
It would be lazy to call this album “surf folk” or simply indie rock. With the distorted voices and drum machine on the album opener “Don't Wanna Be Machine” to the slightly eerie vocals on “So Whatever” (courtesy of Tristan Prettyman), and with the bedded images on the album's cover, these songs excavate the layers of his deep experiences that shaped this record. Lyrically, Hall is pensive and personal, but there's a lightness to this record in its various sounds and textures and colors.
Some of the best moments on the record include “Train Song,” a perfect song for the beach with his optimistic, rich, and raspy vocals over a melody and rhythm that make it impossible not to tap your toe. On it, he's determined and hopeful, and while he doesn't know how he'll get home, the optimistic energy of the song seems uplifting enough to get him there.
It's like a song that never ends / Look at that train, I think it's still coming in
This assurance continues on “So Whatever,” a song about letting go and letting things fall into place as they should—wise words to live by when learning to not sweat the small stuff in life.
So whatever / It's much better / When you don't know how it's all gonna be
Fatherhood is also explored on the incredibly touching “Hello, My Son,” in which Hall lets the listener into his intimate world as a new father.
Sonically, Hall's music is genreless, thanks to his experimentation and exploration of different sounds not limited to one category. His words, however, regardless of the instruments carrying them, maintain a consistent tone of unbridled honesty that is found throughout his music. The spirituality mentioned earlier is particularly present in The Great In-Between and on songs like “Watching the Leaves Fall.”
When Hall moved to Los Angeles, his spirituality deepened, and he eventually converted to Hinduism. The final, powerful song on the album, “Kalika,” is dedicated to the Hindu goddess of the same name. Referring to her as the “mother of the time” and “mother of the mind,” Hall ruminates on what the in-between is and what it means to be in that space. We've all been there; it's a place—a state of being—that is difficult to describe, but Hall manages to do that with these 15 songs.
The spirituality that resonates in Hall's music isn't pretentious or inaccessible. This is music that is meant to heal and help the spirit—the soul, or whatever you call that energy deep inside you. But with all this meaning, these are also songs that can be played in our less emotional and serious settings, like spending time with our families or near the water.
While this may feel like an open-ended motif and message to finish the record, looking back at the 15 songs as an entity, it's difficult not to feel hopeful in some way. Many of us find ourselves in limbo and in periods of transition, or in the in-between. This record demonstrates that there is joy in these temporary spaces and there's a lot of meaning to be discovered. You just need to get comfortable with it all, making the most of the journey to the next stop.
Learn more about Trevor Hall and his musical journey at trevorhallmusic.com.
Story by Gen Handley. Photo by David Cohn (@cohnography). Beach Happy Magazine, Winter 2024.
