The story of Sisyphus and his unceasing duty to roll a boulder uphill is well-known. What the story symbolizes, an unending endeavor in vain, is likewise familiar, perhaps even intrinsic to the human condition. What goes less acknowledged, even as the term “Sisyphean” flows freely through pop culture and everyday conversations, is the actual wisdom that story is intended to impart: Find splendor in the pursuit, find meaning in the suffering, find beauty in the struggle—regardless of whether or not your boulder rolls back down the hill.
Jared Dustin Griffin took the hint. His sophomore album The Perseverance of Sisyphus (due out September 26th) draws upon two decades of commitment to making music, as well as the untethered and at times precarious lifestyle that required. It’s a look back at a long journey with allegedly little to show for it—exempting, of course, a nourished soul, a passion fulfilled, and a life honestly lived.
The songs of Sisyphus dwell in the sacred shadows of Leonard Cohen and Townes Van Zandt, gritty but reverent, rugged but vulnerable. When asked as a child what he wanted to be when he grew up, Griffin declared “ghostbuster” with adamancy. “Not just for a fleeting moment either,” he clarifies. “For at least five years of my childhood, that was the plan.” He laughs recalling this, but in his ardently fought-for vocation of songwriting, he’s not far off. Griffin’s lyrics often linger on death and its companion spiritual world. The album feels spectral, ancient, even biblical at times. His lyrics lean theological—summoning the angels, the devil, the blood of lamb—but Griffin’s devoutness pertains to the inherently holy experience of man.
Today, Glide is offering an exclusive premiere of album opener “I am the Cavalry,” a poetic retrospect and ode to the power of recognizing one’s own sacrifices and moving forward with grace. The fiddle-laden tune serves as a gorgeous folk soundtrack for Griffin’s gruff, wisened vocals that are accentuated with easygoing harmonies. With a voice that carries a similar grit to fellow troubadours like Ryan Bingham and Jesse Welles, Griffin is able to convey feelings of pain, hope, vulnerability, and redemption. Musically, the song hums along and gets one final push with brief solo interplay from the fiddle and a banjo.
Griffin reflects on the meaning behind the tune:
“The melody first arrived in the autumn hush of 2019, haunting me with its quiet gravity. I felt it demanded reverence and patience—so much so that I circled the song for years, wary of falling short. Every return was a pilgrimage, searching for words worthy of its weight. Now, as the album’s opening, it stands as both invitation and warning: the climb ahead is sacred, and every step matters.”
LISTEN:
