Ezra Furman - All Of Us Flames (LP) - Violet Transparent Vinyl

Some albums feel like they arrive right on time. Ezra Furman’s All Of Us Flames is one of those records, released on 26 August 2022 through ANTI- in the US and Bella Union in the UK. It completes a loose trilogy she made with producer John Congleton that also includes Transangelic Exodus and Twelve Nudes, and you can hear the arc snapping into focus here. The sound is richer, the storytelling sharper, and the stakes feel high without turning self-serious. It plays like a dispatch from a community that has been through it and still finds a way to sing.

Furman’s writing has always chased the heat of survival, but these songs push past the solitary fugitive vibe into something communal. The opener, Train Comes Through, sets the tone with a steady beat and a rising sense of resolve. It’s not frantic. It’s patient, like someone stepping across a city at night and taking inventory of who’s still on their side. Congleton’s production keeps everything clear and roomy, letting pianos, guitars, and Furman’s voice carry the weight without clutter. You can tell this partnership is deep by now. They trust the songs to do the heavy lifting.

Several singles told the story in advance and still hit hard inside the album’s sequence. Point Me Toward the Real is the heart-stopper, a ballad that imagines the first steps out of confinement and into a world that might finally make sense. Forever in Sunset turns apocalypse jitters into a love song that refuses panic. Book of Our Names feels like a secular hymn, a search for language wide enough to hold a chosen family. Lilac and Black is a rallying cry dressed like a street anthem. Taken together, they sketch out the album’s mission: name the danger, gather the people, build a fire anyway.

The performances are generous, and Furman’s vocals are as elastic as ever. She leans into a rasp when the song needs grit, then lifts into something tender without breaking the mood. You get the sense these tracks were built for rooms where everyone is facing the stage and also for long walks with headphones. It’s protest music that remembers to be intimate. A lot of artists have tried to score the past few years; Furman narrows the frame to specific stories and lets the politics bleed through the details.

Critics heard it, too. The Guardian, Pitchfork, and other mainstays praised the album’s blend of urgency and warmth, noting how it reframes apocalyptic imagery as a reason to hold each other closer rather than retreat. That reception tracks with how fans talk about these songs at shows and online. They function as anthems, but they’re built out of small gestures and household sounds. That’s a tough balance to pull off.

It’s also a record that rewards a front-to-back listen. The sequencing is careful, rising and receding so the big moments land without bluster. Even when the tempos pick up, the record resists slick catharsis. It favors steady pulses and layered keys, the kind of arrangements that turn into muscle memory after a few plays. You can drop the needle anywhere and find a keeper, but it works best if you let it carry you from the first strike of Train Comes Through to the final glow.

If you collect Ezra Furman vinyl, this one’s essential. All Of Us Flames vinyl turns the album’s warmth into a tangible thing, the kind of spin that pulls you closer to the speakers. If you don’t have a local shop, it’s easy enough to buy Ezra Furman records online, though stumbling on a copy while browsing a Melbourne record store has its own thrill. However you get it, putting Ezra Furman albums on vinyl next to the turntable makes sense, because these songs live well in the room. They feel like company.

All Of Us Flames sticks because it believes in people more than it believes in endings. It doesn’t shy from fear or anger, but it keeps reaching for connection. Years from now, when folks talk about the albums that steadied them, this one will be in the conversation. For now, it’s a strong argument for building a life you’d want to defend, one song at a time.