The first time I saw Shallow Alcove live was on a rainy afternoon in Glasgow. I had been living in Florence, Italy, for five months studying abroad before embarking on a backpacking trip with my partner. This trip was what I had dreamed of since I was small. If I got to tell my younger self that I traveled around Europe for the summer, would I also have to tell my younger self that this trip did not magically fix everything? That, despite the beauty before me, I was still struggling?
The second time I saw Shallow Alcove live was in Pittsburgh. I had found such comfort in their music during the latter half of my Europe trip, so I was excited to hear the songs I had grown so fond of again. Halfway through the set, the band announced that they would be playing a new song, one written about the band’s time in Europe, specifically their show in Scotland, which I had attended.
Listening to Mangos for the first time felt like finally feeling the spring sunlight on a face that has been through a particularly long winter. There is something isolating about being betrayed by your own body during a time that was supposed to be the apex of joy. While it was obvious that traveling through Europe would not assuage every mental wound I had, it was so draining to have those wounds open up even more while abroad.
“Mangos” is Shallow Alcove’s most vulnerable song yet and has not gone unnoticed. Frontman Grace Krichbaum shared details of the song on social media on World Mental Health Day; the band promised to match $1 per presave that day for aid in Gaza. Opening the comment sections of that post gave a similar feeling to listening to the song for the first time. Having irrational fears that manifest in relentless intrusive thoughts can make you feel so small. But fans expressed their gratitude for this song and Grace’s openness under that post, even before the singles’ release. I have always found community in Shallow Alcove’s music, which was magnified by listeners sharing their stories through this song.
The final verse of Mangos has stuck with me for months since I first heard it. It is so easy to feel wrapped up in self-pity when you develop a mental illness later on in life, as you know the ease of a time before them. However, the final verse reminds the listener that we are all capable of immense growth and change and that such darkness will not last forever. It is a note of hope that is always needed but seldom echoes through the mind.
Take a listen to “Mangos” on Spotify:
sam schucker
Sam was born and raised in New York and has been spoiled by live-music-loving parents.
daybreak 