The first notes drift through the speakers like ghosts — an orchestra tuning up, searching for harmony. It’s a bold choice to open Neko Case’s “Neon Grey Midnight Green,” her first solo album since 2018. Bold, yet perfectly fitting for an artist who’s never played by anyone else’s rules.
Recording at her Vermont farm-turned-studio (dubbed Carnassial Sound), Case has crafted something that feels both intimately personal and cinematically vast. At 55, she’s hitting a creative stride that many artists only dream about. Following her raw, unflinching memoir “The Harder I Fight the More I Love You,” these new songs carry the weight of hard-earned wisdom while maintaining an almost defiant sense of wonder.
“I wanted to remind people what it felt like to have a large group playing together,” Case explains about the album’s expansive sound. In an age where bedroom producers dominate the charts and AI-generated tracks flood streaming platforms, there’s something almost rebellious about gathering sixteen musicians in a room to make music the old-fashioned way.
Take “Wreck” — probably the closest thing to a conventional love song Case has ever written. The track builds from a whisper to a crescendo, strings swirling around an unexpected harp line that shouldn’t work but somehow does. “I’m a meteor shattering around you,” she sings, and yeah, that’s exactly what new love feels like.
But this isn’t some collection of moon-June-spoon simplicities. Case dives deep into grief, loss, and the complicated threads that bind us to the past. “Match-Lit,” the album’s haunting closer, pays tribute to Dallas Good of The Sadies. The track culminates in an almost otherworldly duet with Arcade Fire’s Richard Reed Parry, their voices weaving together like smoke signals spelling out “love, love is strange.”
Then there’s “An Ice Age” — possibly the album’s most devastating moment. Case confronts her relationship with her mother through lyrics that cut like winter wind: “From her I learned to be cruel/ I learned the look that goes right past the ones who love you as if there’s no one standing there.” It’s the kind of truth that makes you catch your breath.
Working with the PlainsSong Chamber Orchestra adds layers of complexity without sacrificing intimacy. These arrangements don’t just accompany Case’s storytelling — they’re active participants in the narrative. Sometimes they surge forward like waves; other times they hang back like held breath.
“Little Gears,” structured as an unexpected waltz, showcases Case’s gift for finding profound truth in careful observation. “Why isn’t that enough!?/ Why do people need to feel so special all the time/ So above it all?” The questions hang in the air, unanswered but deeply felt.
The timing of this release feels significant. Case recently opened up about her gender-fluid identity, crediting Gen Z for providing language for something she’s always known but couldn’t quite name. That sense of finally finding the right words seems to infuse these songs with newfound freedom.
“Neon Grey Midnight Green” stands as more than just another entry in Case’s impressive catalog — it’s a testament to the power of artistic evolution. In an era where algorithms increasingly shape our musical landscape, Case has created something that demands to be experienced rather than merely consumed. It’s a reminder that sometimes the most revolutionary act is simply being truthfully, unapologetically yourself.