How Heavy is Quietness?: Zach Bryan’s Quiet, Heavy Dreams
By Ben Ostroski
Some songs are made to feel like performances, some like a late-night drive in summer, and others like an overheard confession. Listening to Quiet, Heavy Dreams, Zach Bryan’s 2020 EP, carries a feeling of vulnerability as soon as you press play. Unlike most country music of today, it’s not overly polished and produced. Its tone is raw, walking the listener into a private moment where someone is trying to make sense of their life with only a guitar. The six tracks are not meant to wow with flashy production. Instead, they exist in the depths of an emotional sea of regret, longing, love, and reflection, placing the listener into an atmosphere where the weight of everyday life is revealed. Bryan provides a similar feeling to what I experience when I spend time in nature. Solitary moments in the woods or on the water never feel dramatic, but they always bring the type of silence that makes your thoughts impossible to ignore. Quiet, Heavy Dreams lives in this very silence.
Country hits of today rely on layered production and radio formats that are designed for the masses. Radio hits like “I Had Some Help” by Morgan Wallen use collaborations with other artists, polished studio production, and catchy hooks to attract listeners. Bryan takes a different turn with his work, relying on his profound songwriting skills and emotional generation. Perhaps this is why Bryan rejects the label of country artist. The artist has very explicitly stated that he views himself as a songwriter. He supports this self-image in Quiet, Heavy Dreams as it lacks large instrumental layering and refined vocal performances. His music is built on his raw voice and acoustic guitar, which allows lyrics to cut through, right to the listener's heart.
In the first song, “Let You Down,” the listener feels as though Bryan himself is apologizing for how difficult it is to live up to expectations. He is able to effectively capture the fear of letting down those that matter most, whether it is family, lovers, or oneself. He carries this theme of flawed humanity into “Crooked Teeth,” where he sings about how imperfect love can be and the complicated ways people try to hold on to each other even after their mistakes. The image of “crooked teeth” becomes a symbol of something imperfect, even broken, but is still beautiful. He stands apart from mainstream music, such as Wallen’s booming chorus, which shouts its title repetitively as a hook and main theme. Bryan avoids the clear-cut messages of many mainstream country artists and instead pulls apart how complex and messy human relationships are.
Quiet, Heavy Dreams dissects the type of thoughts that I get during long hours of fishing, patiently waiting for something that might never happen. The stillness of the moment forces you to reflect on whether you want to or not. There is nothing to distract you, no one to converse with, just you and the moment. In high school, spending time in the woods felt like going to church. I can remember after being outside for an extended period, reflecting on my relationships, and by the end, I was at peace with whatever had happened. Just like Quiet, Heavy Dreams, the simplicity of the environment leaves room for deep thoughts.
After “Crooked Teeth,” the song “November Air” takes a turn down an alley of memory and loss. It feels like finding an old photograph and realizing just how much time has passed. Bryan sings the line “If you see her, tell her I wish her well,” a short line packed with honesty. No tricky metaphor, no over-the-top delivery, just a heartfelt statement that even after they leave your life, people remain important. Some of the clearest moments of self-reflection that I have experienced have been during walks through the woods breathing “November Air.” The cold air and the crisp crunch of leaves under your feet transport you from the hustle of our day-to-day lives. I can think back to a time when, as a young boy, I was submerged in this environment and fell in love with it. I had no idea how big my questions were, but I found myself pondering how the world works and why everything happens the way it does. “November Air” molds the listener's thoughts in a way many songwriters can only hope. Zach Bryan is second to only nature, providing a clean space removed from reality, for memories and regrets to flow with no pressure for resolution.
Moving into “Birmingham,” Bryan plays with the idea of movement without purpose. He contains the feeling of traveling between destinations while contemplating where one truly belongs in life. He carries this into the track “Traveling Man,” where he puts an individual who is constantly moving forward, while still carrying the weight of past experiences, into the spotlight. Throughout Quiet, Heavy Dreams, Bryan suggests that true movement only occurs when we finally make room to acknowledge and accept the baggage we carry.
The emotional centerpiece is the title track. Bryan captures the feeling of longing for your hopes and dreams while knowing you may never reach them. The emotions that “Quiet, Heavy Dreams” evokes are stronger than the sequoias Bryan sings about. “And I don't know who she is or if she might exist, / But if she does, I swear to love, I'm destined for that kiss.” This line specifically captures the intense hope people have when looking for a life-long partner. He then finishes with, “Quiet dreams are for toting around / Let's pretend there's a place to go / Where I can lay this hacksaw down.” In other words, the only reality where all of his dreams come true is fictional. The tension created by this is directly in correlation with the tension in the phrase “quiet, heavy dreams.” Dreams are usually seen as outright goals, but Bryan reimagines them into a quiet, almost private form that is weighed down with responsibility. He describes them in a way that magnifies the ambitions and worries that people carry silently.
For myself and many listeners, the overall impact of Quiet, Heavy Dreams is not found in one particular moment, but it is in the emotional environment that it creates as a whole. The songs don't insist on your attention; they slowly pull the listener in to create an emotion not easily provoked. Unlike the prepackaged themes of small-town pride and heartbreak in mainstream hits, Bryan slows the moment down. By stripping back to the most basic elements of music, he carves a space into the busyness of our lives. He allows us to fill this space with the same reflective thought nature provokes with just a click of a button. Bryan reminds us, even in the fast-paced lives many live, moments of stillness can be evoked.
Quiet, Heavy Dreams is a perfect demonstration that music doesn’t need intense production to leave a lasting, meaningful impression on its listeners. As you finish listening to the last track, you are left with the realization that the title has become a metaphor for both Bryan’s songwriting as well as life’s turmoil. Just as the stillness of a lake in the morning provides a surface for reflection, Bryan’s music allows us to reflect on our own dreams that we quietly carry, even if they are incredibly heavy.
