For some reason, I tend to think of Colin Ernst as being a part of Ball of Wax since Levi first started putting it together. This isn’t the case, so it must be that Colin’s material embodies something of the very spirit of this quarterly compilation. I’m probably not explaining this very well, so here’s an analogue: You know that actor/actress that seems to pop up in everything over the course of years? Not the headliners, not the moneymakers, not the flavors of the month, but the character without whom the film/TV show/telethon just wouldn’t be the same—the faces/voices that you keep thinking you recognize but you can’t figure it out until one day, BOOM, “oh shit, that’s Colin Ernst!”
Part of it may be that Colin’s voice is unique and identifiable (it’s got a wispy near-hoarseness that hides a constant urge to scream) in the cozy and comforting way that is often the heart of many a Ball of Wax. Part of it may be that the production quality around his guitar sound is often a combination jangleriffic/lazy-scraping, but it’s also that he is that cinematic everyman. In just the past few years, Colin has played such diverse roles as Crotchety Santa, Put-Upon Pandemic Plaintiff, High Plains Grifter, and a Bullet-Dodging Beneficent Leader of the Free World—okay, maybe not all everyman characters, but somehow, they’re all Colin Ernst. It makes me wonder if “The Point of No Return” isn’t Colin Ernst actually being Colin Ernst.
“The Point of No Return” is pop only in its harmonies and structure. Everything else about this tune, despite mostly conventional instrumentation, feels otherworldly, removed from time, hearkening back to early plainsongs mixed with campfire songs but knowingly ahead of where we are now. Colin Ernst points himself in directions that one might not expect (both the aforementioned jolly gift-giver and the people’s president, for examples) and comes back with new or unique ways of seeing the world and its people and things. “The Point of No Return,” however, seems like a direction toward which more artists would instinctively move—inward. The opening idea of this song expresses something axiomatic, yet widely misunderstood: “A storm brings clouds over everyone, but some can’t seem to shake the dread.” We’re all in this together, but so many of us feel like we’re the only ones suffering.
Wisely, Colin doesn’t pass judgment, preferring instead to state the way things are and then pressing listeners to reflect and search out the sea change in their own lives. The Colin-Ernsty Twist shows up here: Without forcing or even asking the audience to accept it, he merely puts forth that we’re all defeated. The Colin-Ernsty Trick is that these sentiments are wrapped in an arrangement so gauzy and protectively healing that we couldn’t refute his declaration if we wanted to.
