If you're a fan of musicians such as Bon Iver or Iron & Wine but have never listened to Covenhoven, then you're welcome: We're about to introduce you to your next favorite artist.
The folk singer-songwriter, born Joel Van Horne, is a lyrical master. A native Coloradan, he has a long-standing presence in the music scene that goes back to the early 2000s, when he performed in the alt-indie group Carbon Choir. When that band dissolved around 2012, he took his swath of songs and started Covenhoven, a project that intimately ties listeners to Van Horne not just through the music, but through its name.
"Covenhoven is the name of my family's cabin that I grew up going to in Wyoming," he explains. While mulling over monikers, "I was trying to think about, Who am I, what am I, what is something that really encapsulates me? And I immediately had this feeling of warmth and peace wash over me when I thought of that cabin."
Similar emotions resonate from his songs, wrapping listeners in comfort like a weighted blanket. Poetic and enigmatic, Covenhoven tunes are a soothing respite from the chaotic day-to-day realities that cloud our minds, whether it's as small as catching a cold or as big as impending economic doom. And the latest album, The Color of the Dark, continues that ethos across ten pristine tracks fueled by philosophical musings. The album will drop on all streaming platforms on Friday, April 11, and Van Horne will celebrate the release with a show at Swallow Hill Music on Saturday, April 12.
"Most of these songs were borne out of long hours on the highway and alone under the stars," Van Horne says, and the album's storytelling nature almost immerses listeners in such contemplative settings. It kicks off with the song "Only Time Can Tell," a powerful reflection on nostalgia, memories and purpose while evoking images of golden sunsets bleeding over a highway.
"Joshua Tree, 83," meanwhile, tells a beautiful story of stargazing, familial love and childlike imagination. There is no refrain — just Van Horne's calming voice over soft strumming as his lyrics paint a wistful image of a relationship between a father and child:
I saw you smiling like a child in a photograph you didn't know you had
The dog-eared corner poking out from a pile labeled Joshua Tree, comma 83
And you were only seven when you drove across all eleven states to the Everglades
And you saw things you thought were only make-believe
And a line was drawn all the way to me
And Dad kept trying to show you how to find Orion
And every night the stars came out, he'd kiss your cheek for trying to understand
And the day he carved the wooden dragonfly
And the fragile wings started fluttering in your imagination
And what's the thing he used to call you then?
My little hummingbird, my little canyon wren
And you learned all the names of every constellation
You're a scientist in trying to prove that God exists inside of you.
Van Horne recently lost his own father, so that makes the song "more meaningful to me," he says.
The story is not "a literal thing that happened to me, but it feels like it," he continues. "I think that's the beauty of a song — it's a world that presents itself and unfolds slowly. I did start it in Joshua Tree; I remember laying in my cot under the stars, just staring up at the sky in Joshua Tree. I had written the ukelele part a couple days prior, and I made a little voice memo. I was listening to it, and it dawned on me that this song would definitely cover some story that's attached to this place."
The album's title, meanwhile, comes from another standout track, "The Rhyme Is Not the Meaning," which somewhat encapsulates The Color of the Dark's overall vibe. Van Horne says that song, in particular, "has really impacted me in a certain way that I think is personally important. That song has come the closest to trying to convey that feeling that I get when I go out on these big adventures."
He often tours around the Southwest, and this year will be no different. He'll perform at FoCoMX before hitting the road for a seven-week tour that will take him to 28 cities across the West and into Canada. But first, he has his Swallow Hill show, which will see him perform the new Covenhoven songs as well as older favorites.
It's a hard-won celebration: The Color of the Dark, which he began recording early last year at different locations, including Gregory Alan Isakov's farm, was "a long time in the making," he says. "Those songs date to three or four years ago, maybe potentially earlier. It's hard to keep track."
That's because he has a prolific well to pull from. "At any given time, I may have thirty or forty songs in the works," he says. Sometimes songs were meant for other albums — The Color of the Dark will be his fifth — that he ended up pulling to save for another time. While it's clear upon listening to the music itself, the way Van Horne discusses his process underscores how a Covenhoven release is a highly curated, intentional undertaking.
"It's almost like you're dropping these little boats into a river and watching them either make it down or not," he says. "There are songs from years ago that I know I still want to get to the finish line. There's a lot of irons in the fire."
Covenhoven plays Swallow Hill Music, 71 East Yale Avenue, 8 p.m. Saturday, April 12. Tickets are $29.83.