When lily of the valley begins to bloom, it is one of the surest signs that harsh winter weather is over. In Victorian floriography, the perennial flower, native throughout the northern hemisphere, symbolized the return to happiness. As the earth thaws, a cascade of bell-shaped buds and sweet scents burst forth, a harbinger of warmer months and better times to come.

This sense of renewal and rebirth was clearly on Will Kennedy’s mind while working on Thrushhis new delicate lo-fi indie rock album like Halo 22°. Written while grappling with the realities of his wife and collaborator Kate Schneider’s brain cancer diagnosis, the album delves intensely into the shared grief and anxiety of a period full of doctor visits and of uncertainty. However, while making the record, he wrote on Instagram shortly after its release, was a balm when things were hardest. “It helped keep me hopeful when Kate had an MRI every two months to see if her cancer had come back,” he said.

Kennedy writes bluntly about the gravity of their situation. “Cobwebs,” a brief song toward the end of the album, is its bright emotional core. In a fragile low end, Kennedy sings imaginatively about the weeks following Kate’s diagnosis. He remembers feeling the carbonation of a Diet Coke in his throat as he sought medical attention while awaiting test results. He remembers seeing Kate gently comforting his mother as she headed into surgery. Each lyric is rich and intimate in a way that recalls Phil ElverumOr Emily Sprague of FloristThe keen eye for carefully chosen details. But even as he recalls these difficult memories, he never seems overcome by tearful emotion. The chorus of “Cobwebs” swells to insistent percussion and spiky feedback as Kennedy and Schneider sing together about holding on to the feeling that they’ll get through this: “I’m trying to believe that you’re good . »

This bittersweet optimism is the defining character of Thrush. Even when, like on the sweet song “Ivy,” he’s reminded of the gravity of what they’re going through together — “For a second or an hour,” he sings. “I remember that you might not make it”: he always finds beauty in the world around him. “CVS on a Walk,” sung softly over shimmering guitar chimes, captures the intensity of the turmoil and serenity they find there. While Kennedy assures them that “the hair will grow back,” they take comfort in the pleasure of a walk to the pharmacy. Such a journey is not without its difficulties, but there is peace in putting one foot in front of the other.