Jesse Marchant
It could almost be inferred that Jesse Marchant wrote the songs for his most recent album over a period of months in NYC during which a lot of his world had come out from under him, in what he has described as “a general period of falling outs, absence + abuse, both of self and of what should or could have been surrounding”. But in the process of finding an end to that Marchant feels to have grown. One is not left to wonder why he chose to drop the moniker of his former releases (his initials JBM) for the use of his proper full name, nor why his voice + lyrics, recorded with a mouth-to-ear intimacy, emphasizing his deepening + wearying baritone, sit loud + naked atop the widescreen backdrop of the deep synthesizer + orchestral pads + arrangements, often reminiscent of “I’m on Fire” era Springsteen. There is a sense of wanting to take responsibility + a desire to have things seen and said clearly for what they are, directly. The songs that make up this eponymous album are menacing, dreamy worlds of their own, each one unique for each listener, instantly relatable + surprisingly therapeutic: Marchant’s revelations are infectious. He is processing internal + external problems that aren’t just personal but feel like signs of our times, and in doing so has created an album that feels particularly important, relevant, + powerful.
