Afterwards, you reflect: they looked and sounded pretty much the same. Most of what you talked about you'd touched on before. And yet, something felt different. There was, in them, a subtle but definite energetic shift.
The experience is similar while listening to Julia Jacklin’s new album, . “Brand New”, for example, is built around a guitar-heavy, folk-rock mix that resembles various tracks from 2019’s . And yet, the tension between what’s being sarcastically communicated and what’s being pensively repressed or self-censored feels darker, stickier, more alarming. If we were sitting at that lunch table over lattes, we might ask: Uh, is everything all right?
In any case, this elusive sense of burden or free-floating distress plays a large part in the intriguing air of mystery that surrounds these ten songs. “God Sometimes”, like “Brand New”, is built around a bouncy, guitar-led mix and lush production. The chugging guitars, alternately pushy and draggy, occasionally recall and the moodier side of Courtney Barnett. Jacklin’s voice is sultry, tinged with sadness, and warbly in all the right places. “The Hardest Thing”, too, works for its contrast between Jacklin’s sorrow-tinged vocal and a catchy melody that conjures -era Alvvays. Lyrically, the song hits on the theme of shame, how we often feel unlovable and deflect affection or compliments when they come our way (“The hardest thing to do / is believe it when you say I love you”).
On closer “I Wish”, she describes how she made it through her challenging youth, albeit with little guidance from others. Yes, she survived, “grew into a new shape.” But, she comments, “I wish someone had been there at the time.” The song expresses gratitude for the way things turned out and grief for the absence of mentors. Jacklin and her guests, Australian sister duo The Maes, harmonise exquisitely, reminiscent of late '80s Indigo Girls.
“Angel Vision”, meanwhile, reminds us that Jacklin can still go solo with ease. Her voice swells and contracts, as she segues between higher and lower pitches. When she sings, “I let you teach me things I already knew,” is she implying that she dumbed herself down to accommodate her lover? Did she do this to make them feel important? So she wouldn’t rock the boat? The fact that there are many ways to interpret the line prompts us to reflect on our own relationships and the patterns we’ve brought into them.
Indeed, is infused throughout with Jacklin’s ambivalence regarding her motivations and relational defaults. That said, just as and included their forays into pure pop (“Pressure to Party” and “I Was Neon”, respectively), so this fourth album offers the airy “Get Away from Me (I Think I’ll Love You Soon)”, in which Jacklin describes a no-strings yet still tugging love affair, her voice effervescent, her tune wrapping around a listener like a honey-soaked lasso.
Beneath the pop trappings of The Gem, though, Jacklin wrestles with uncertainty, even, perhaps, unprocessed trauma. The artist’s persona (the forthright introvert?) serves as MC, but a shadowy presence (the mercurial Persephone?) lurks beneath the surface. If is frequently beguiling, it’s for this tamped volatility or simmering despondence, a not-so-quiet desperation bubbling in the depths.