Water Street Closer – A Horn-Laced Leap Toward Connection

Somewhere Between the Studio and the Skyline

It’s funny how some songs arrive like an accidental discovery, while others feel hunted down. Closer by Water Street plays like a band in full control, with good instinct and perfect timing. The band – Julia Aiello, Dave Paulson, Eddie Woodcock, Brendon Gardner, Connor Konecnik, and Alex Kerssen – built it, piece by piece.

I’ve got the track looping in my headphones right now. The brass lines kick first, that kind of swagger that reminds you of nights where optimism feels slightly drunk but still there. Then comes Julia’s voice – bright, sure, and human enough to make you remember you’re still awake. Somewhere between her phrasing and the horns, I catch that line: “I get closer in my head / Until I’m next to you.”

Yeah, that’s the spot where the song sinks its teeth. It’s about proximity – emotional, not geographical – and that strange human urge to close the distance.

The Sound of Deliberate Evolution

Water Street recorded Closer at Little Brother Audio in Philadelphia with Tyler Ripley behind the console. And to be honest, this release that feels like the band drew a line in the sand. Their upcoming fifth album, second under Free Dive Collective, and the first step of a new phase.

Their earlier work already had that hybrid DNA: acoustic roots tangled with jazz, soul, indie, and Americana. But Closer is them tightening the bolts – a deliberate fusion of their layered harmonies and bluesy guitars, with the bite of an 80s throwback horn section. You can feel the ghosts of Lake Street Dive and Couch winking in the background, yet the result sounds undeniably Water Street. Clean, confident, and breathing in its own pace.

I picture that old auto-body shop on Water Street in Blairstown, NJ, where it all started – cousins Dave and Julia rehearsing in a space still smelling faintly of oil and paint. Now they’re polishing brass instead of chrome, building songs instead of engines, and somehow keeping the same hands-on clarity.

Connection, Hope, and the Kind of Joy You Need

As far as I’m concerned, every band writes about love. But few manage to write about surrender without turning it into a postcard. Closer leans into that vulnerability – letting the groove say what words can’t. It’s like your sonic version of a deep breath before jumping.

The horns feel like celebration, the guitars like memory, and the vocals like someone finally admitting they want to be seen. There’s optimism in every measure, but not the fake one. More like the stubborn kind that survives bad weather.

As I listen, I can almost see the band at Maplewoodstock, opening for Couch, brass gleaming under a summer sky – Julia at the mic, eyes locked on the crowd. That’s where Water Street thrives. In those moments where rehearsal becomes release, and songs like Closer become the bridge between what was and what’s next.

Finally – What Gets You Closer

Closer feels like a conversation you start in your head and somehow finish aloud. It lands like a promise – that there’s still room for bands who care about sound, space, and stories that need to be told. And Water Street, from that small-town shop to the festival stage, seem to know exactly how to keep that alive.

Want to keep up with Water Street and whatever comes next from that Jersey spark? Follow them on Facebook, Instagram, Bandcamp, Spotify, and YouTube.