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Jan 27, 2021 By Caleb Campbell Photography by Seth Caplan Elizabeth and the Catapult

New York-based singer/songwriter Elizabeth Ziman has returned with a message to fans from quarantine. Much like many other records over the past year, her fifth record as Elizabeth and The Catapult, sincerely, e, was born in reaction to the pandemic. Envisioned as Ziman’s letter from quarantine, she delivers her most stark and solitary work yet. For the first time, Ziman is alone on the record, speaking from her living room and accompanied only by her guitar and piano. Despite the understated presentation, few other artists have spoken this incisively to the issues running through all of our heads, with Ziman’s lens encompassing both the imposing and the insular. She turns her eye towards everything from the environment and wellness industry to the crushing loneliness and overstimulation of quarantine. She is now debuting her latest single, “together, alone,” premiering with Under the Radar.

Acting as the north star to the album, “together, alone” is the summation of all the record’s intersecting themes. For most Americans, our inescapable connection to technology burrowed even deeper last year as it became the only source of connection to the outside world. Yet, the constant stimulation and shallow connection were only more isolating. With “together, alone” you’re transported by Ziman’s vibrant vocals and solitary piano to the early days of quarantine when all connection was digital. Ziman perfectly captures the confusing haze of spring 2020, encapsulating our codependency with technology in one line: “My brain is connected to my hand / Is connected to my phone.” Even though many artists have released quarantine albums, Ziman rises to the top with one of the most moving and deeply relatable reflections of the past year.

Elizabeth, fitting with the themes of the record, has put her thoughts on the song into a letter below.

”when did it happen

I still can’t recall it

life wasn’t enough

until after I typed it…”

And so I type here: Looking back at writing, rewriting, and recording the song “together, alone” with ten months of the pandemic in the rear view mirror, and I still feel that daily rub of emotions expressed in the song. I miss a whole lot of things in isolation, but I’m so grateful to have stayed in touch with my loved ones and to have forged new online relationships that I may have experienced if not for the breakdown of face-to-face communication caused by the global pandemic.

This past year, especially, I used my phone so often it felt like an extension of my body. Experiencing dreams of having phones for hands, now, seems like an obvious consequence of constant online connection. Being in touch with family and friends through insufficient soundwaves and screens was better than nothing. Better than feeling alone.

Digital connection it’s still no substitute for actual human connection. No matter how well we foster our internet communities, there will always be an aspect of apps and scrolling that breeds loneliness, anxiety and comparison. “And the kiss you’re about to give me, now” a lyric from the end of the bridge recalls a kiss - a kind of ultimate fulfillment of the human touch - is emphasized by the recitation of “now, now, now, now”, conjuring the feeling, almost willing it into existence.

It was important to me that the music provided space for the lyrics to shine and was therefore performed solo, simply, with just piano and my voice. I recorded it live and thought—it’s crystal clear to me- why would I complicate things? I spend most of my life playing piano at home and I thought it was important on this album to capture that more free, live, and less controlled element of what I do.

That said, this song has several movements or sections, almost like acts in a play - bouncing around themes and ideas in a way that seems to mirror the nature of scrolling through one’s phone. The video that accompanies the song is exploring “a day in the life” of my phone: the good, the bad, the entertaining, the foolish— it’s all in there.

Hoping this letter finds you feeling more together and less alone.

“let’s all yawn in unison,”

sincerely,

e

Check out the song below and watch for sincerely, e coming March 5th via Compass Records.