This is one of my favorite times of the year: in which I catch up with my backlog to prepare for mid-year lists and spotlight my favorite music of the year thus far. It’s usually a period of discovery that doesn’t come as often for me anymore, which is why I cherish it.
That’s my roundabout way of saying that, while I’m now months late to covering both it and the artist in question, Jaimee Harris’ sophomore album, Boomerang Town, has been a wonderful find and recommendation. For context, her 2018 debut, Red Rescue, was another great discovery for me, a ragged, rock-leaning slice of folk and Americana that leaned dark and heavy on the compositions, even if it was a bit rough-around-the-edges and patchy in some of the finer details.
Her newest album skews closer to the tempered country-folk styling and restraint of, say, Gretchen Peters and Lori McKenna works, and while one could argue it loses a bit of distinctive edge from a compositional standpoint because of that shift, it’s probably a better fit for Harris’ sharp, passionate delivery. So yeah, it’s a very easy sell for me, but I’ll also say to temper expectations, given that this is a slow-burn project that will test listener patience through some truly emotionally devastating material.
And really, it’s a warning I’d have to offer from the start, given that it opens with a seven-minute-long title track that’s basically a spiritual successor to Tracy Chapman’s “Fast Car” (a timely track to discuss) in how it tackles the thrill of young love and big dreams for a couple, only to have them crushed by generational traumas and failed systems that hold them back before they even have a chance to begin their lives. And it’s all the more depressing here, when both partners are equally trying and just can’t climb out of that hole, leading to a feeling of hopelessness made all the more crushing by the actual lived-in details and setup given to the characters on display.
Basically, it’s an album that takes it time to establish its scenes and characters, which is what adds tension and weight to the actual moments where the emotive punch pours out, like the intensely passionate display of the grieving process that comes with losing a loved one on “How Could You Be Gone,” imported from partner Mary Gauthier’s great album from last year, Dark Enough to See the Stars. It’s just a very human album at its core, able to draw a lot of unfortunately relatable scenes with empathy for the characters who have to endure their forced hardships.
And again, if I had to point to the other common core of this album, it’s a showcase of what others’ actions can have in shaping our psyches, especially in the long term. And it’s mostly shown best in the relationships depicted in between, or at least the illusion of them at points, like the abusive partner on “The Fair and Dark Haired Lad” who takes advantage of a much younger partner without regard for their feelings. If there’s anything gained from those darker experiences, it’s a sense of greater empathy when placed on the other side, like the care shown for a partner struggling with their mental health on “Good Morning, My Love.” And sometimes it’s just more complex, which is why I love “Like You” so much for how Harris’ anger toward an ex-partner who took off is shown almost through gritted teeth in her delivery. And yet, there’s a part of her that still loves her too much to actually ever hate her, which turns the anger into just bittersweet regret.
Now, again, coming off that debut album, I will say that the production can sometimes lack the extra grit to add better variety and keep the album from running together overall, especially when it slides into conventional, brittle indie-folk, like on “Sam’s.” Sometimes you need that restraint to let the performance and writing shine at the forefront, which is another reason I love the rawness of “Like You” so much, as well as the depressing normalcy Harris walks us through with the title track. And there is some appreciated slight atmospheric smolder added to tracks like “On the Surface” and through the weedy violin of “The Fair and Dark Haired Lad” to help a bit in this department. But it can feel a bit anonymous from a sonic standpoint, which doesn’t always help for a challenging album like this in terms of greater accessibility.
With that said, it’s still excellent, especially when how, despite featuring characters fighting down to the wire to preserve whatever is left of both their physical and mental health, it is that fighting spirit that informs the stakes of this album at large. And it’s also why it ends with two more of my favorite tracks, the first of which being the life lessons offered through “Love Is Gonna Come Again” that feels lived-in and well-informed by the moments that come before it, as well as the lone upbeat moment in the closer, “Missing Someone.”
It’s possibly my favorite on the album next to “Like You,” given that it features a well-developed acoustic groove and a really great hook, where despite being a song about being separated from a significant other while touring out on the road, it’s the knowing that it’s only temporary that makes it easy to hold on for that eventual reunion, at least for now. It’s an unexpected pivot for this album, but a great one nonetheless. Again, this isn’t an easy album to confront, but it’s richly rewarding for its detailed writing and moments of emotional devastation – what a great find.
- Favorite tracks: “Boomerang Town,” “How Could You Be Gone,” “The Fair and Dark Haired Lad,” “Like You,” “Love Is Gonna Come Again,” “Missing Someone”
- Least favorite track: “Sam’s”
The Musical Divide 