Tired Hearts, the new album from rising indie-pop power trio,
BAILEN, delivers a dazzling set of songs that navigates the space between the heart’s expectation and the head’s sober reality. New York based siblings, Daniel, David, and Julia’s second full-length album for Fantasy beats with empathy, vulnerability, and resolve.
At times intricate and playful, measured and elaborate, the 12 original songs on Tired Hearts wrestle with an uncertain future where ethics and morality—both communal and personal—seem to be constantly shifting. Locating one’s compass amidst the chaos—a world-wide pandemic, toxic social media culture, economic insecurity and political turbulence—is at the LP’s core.
Producer Brad Cook (Bon Iver, Waxahatchee, Snail Mail) who, along with the band, co-produced Tired Hearts, helped to expand BAILEN’s ambition beyond what they initially envisioned.
“We’d played the last record live a hundred times before recording it, so we tracked a lot of it live,” Daniel explains. “With Brad, we took a collagist’s approach. It freed us up to explore and be sonically adventurous.”
In contrast to the road-tested songs on their accomplished debut LP, 2019’s Thrilled to Be Here produced by John Congleton, many of the songs on Tired Hearts were honed in the studio as opposed to live on tour – “the songs changed so much over the course of recording process,” Julia remarks.
Most noticeably, Cook encouraged the trio to experiment with how they sing. “We deliberately used the more vulnerable parts of our voices,” Julia says. “After not being in the studio for years, we were in vulnerable places, and this record reflects the frustration and tenderness of that time.” “We pushed ourselves lyrically, it’s the most exposed, intimate music we’ve written as a result,” David affirms.
Indeed, BAILEN’s radiant harmonies, spare, synth-driven tracks, and futuristic, ear-catching arrangements usher in Tired Heart’s exhilarating avant-pop evolution. “Shadows,” affectingly captures “the moment you see someone and realize you can spend the rest of your life with them.” “Nothing Left to Give” echoes of HAIM’s sparkling pop, while “These Bones,” contains a hint of Phoebe Bridgers’ hushed intimacy.
Perhaps no two songs embody that fresh ethos (and the band’s incredible range) more than the high-gloss, New Wave dance track “Call It Like It Is,” and the stunning “BRCA (Nothing Takes Me Down),” which takes its name from the hereditary breast cancer gene that Julia and her mother (who is a breast cancer survivor) share. Over the track’s slow building rhythmic pulse, Julia sings of hospital gowns and uncertainty, untying a complex knot of familial anxiety, guilt, and acceptance, while embracing the determination to move forward: I’ll still live like I’m dying/ But I won’t let it take me down, she insists. “It’s about finding ways to not be defined by these circumstances, and to move past them with resilience.”
Raised and rooted in New York City by classically trained musician parents and their wide-ranging, eclectic record collection, BAILEN has emerged as a favorite in indie circles by cultivating a passionate following via word of mouth, robust playlisting and a stream of steady touring and collaborating with artists such as Amos Lee, The Lone Bellow, Joseph, and Hozier to name a few.
On Tired Hearts, their exquisite and thought-provoking new album, BAILEN learns how to dream in the face of life’s uncertainty and in the process, moves forward aware, resilient, and hopeful. “This album is a breakthrough for us,” Daniel says. “It’s been a rocky road, but we’re really grateful that it’s led us here.”
Rett Madison’s new album, One for Jackie, pays tribute to her mom, who passed by suicide in 2019, leaving her only child with an unbearable sense of responsibility to understand her mother better as she mourned her. “My mom struggled with depression, PTSD, and alcoholism all my life, but her death was shocking and unexpected,” Madison says. “Writing this album, I was moving through grief; it was part of my healing process.”
Over 12 songs, Madison distills the weeks and months following her mother’s death, drawing inspiration from the storytelling she admires in Appalachian folks traditions of her home state, West Virginia, the ‘70s output of Bob Dylan and Dusty Springfield, as well as the music her mother raised her on. Beyond borrowing from the past, One for Jackie cements itself as a modern American classic, for fans of acts like Angel Olsen, Phoebe Bridgers, and Brandi Carlile. While Madison describes her debut, Pin-Up Daddy, as a collection of songs she’d sporadically written between the ages of 19 and 21, without a single underlying narrative tying the tracks together, One for Jackie is a story best heard front to back, preferably played loud. Recorded in Tornillo, TX at the storied Sonic Ranch and produced by the Grammy Award-winning Tyler Chester, One for Jackie further elevates Madison’s dextrous musicianship, while her singular voice commands a room from the outset on opening piano ballad “Jacqueline." Her lyrics are at once gutting, openhearted, and wry, giving listeners a multifaceted look at the irreducible process of grieving such immense loss.
The collaboration between Madison, Chester, and an assortment of studio musicians creates a seamless vision, as Madison’s already exceptional guitar and piano playing are joined by synths, assorted percussion instruments, strings, organ, mournful slide guitar, and more. The guilt of having lost a parent to suicide, and not being able to prevent that death, haunted Madison. “My lyrics are pretty confessional and straightforward,” she says. “I want these songs to find people who have been in this situation and need to be reminded that it’s not their fault, and it’s normal to have conflicting feelings.” Storytelling is a part of Madison’s cultural inheritance, and throughout One for Jackie, she openly takes on the perspective of others, imagining herself into moments she never experienced firsthand. “How it All Began” sounds off to early Springsteen, as Madison envisions Jackie’s young adulthood, while the album’s spare and heartrending acoustic closer, sung by Iron & Wine, finds Jackie speaking directly to her daughter, who she called “Kiki.” One for Jackie gives the listener an uncanny sense of familiarity, as if immersing ourselves in Madison’s grief, in her memories, allows us to know a little bit of Jackie, too. This is a testament to Madison’s lyricism; she is specific, exacting, and wise even in her most unguarded moments. In death, we tend to flatten people, turn them saintly and pure and faultless, but One for Jackie does something better: it brings her to life.