Soltero, You’re No Dream
![]() |
If we have learned anything from Conor Oberst’s example, it’s that more brooding one-man folk acts should be wary of crossing the line separating heartfelt from overwrought.
It’s refreshing, then, to see that now-Philly-based Soltero has taken as much to heart with his/their latest release, You’re No Dream, recorded in the wake of songwriter Tim Howard’s recent move from Boston. The largely acoustic album (Soltero’s fifth full-length) finds Howard returning to his lo-fi solo roots with a quiet, minutely studied collection of songs about dislocation and wary almost-love.
Howard overlays his innocent, haunting melodies with vivid visual snippets and wraith-like vocals that veer imperceptibly from hope to deflated weariness. It is this weirdly lucid sense that characterizes the record, which, with its wistful ukulele and stark, almost tribal percussion, seems to exist entirely within the phantom space between sleep and wakefulness.

















