Review: I quit
HAIM is absolutely done giving a fuck in their gritty yet blasé fourth studio album.
Women in Music Pt. III is one of my favorite albums of all time. It perfectly soundtracked the simultaneous relief, excitement, uncertainty, and exhaustion I felt after graduating from college, and I had it on repeat that entire summer. Beyond being a massive fan of HAIM, I’ve always enjoyed the way they talk about music, and have found a sort of kinship to how deeply they worship their craft. From what I can tell, they are pretty much on the same wave length as me in terms of musical taste. They love the old school, ranging from Prince to Joni Mitchell, but are super excited about contemporary music, and stay plugged into where the music industry is heading. Their tastes are heavily reflected in the ethos of their band: they are one of the only actual bands still around and relevant today. They protect old-guard rock while managing to still feel contemporary.
I quit, HAIM’s fourth studio album, continues to stay true to this general ethos. Co-produced by Rostam Batmanglij, it's possibly their grittiest sound yet, filled with larger-than-life drums, crisp harmonies, and stellar guitar lines. The album has a fuck-it bravado to it that can only be born from some serious heartbreak and tough days. It’s a “feel it” type of album, which is why I can’t quite pin it down. I don’t think HAIM can either. I don’t think they want to, so neither do I.
HAIM is done giving a fuck; they ran out of fucks to give. This has been quite clear in the roll out of the album. All of the cover art for the singles has been viral paparazzi shots, and the album cover is the most candid-esque and least polished. You can really feel this throughout the album, from the overarching blasé cool attitude to the smaller details. We have Danielle singing super close to the mic, the closest we have heard from her yet. She’s trying new things: we get more speaking, we get more purposeful pitchiness, we get wispy headvoices and valley vocal fry. She doesn’t give a fuck. We have deep down soul confessions like “I'm not sure I'm meant to love 'cause when I try to love someone / I could never find a way to also love myself,” but we also have some of the dumbest (celebratory) lyrics I have ever heard with “Molly took a shit in the back of the truck / Didn't even notice, she was too coked up.” They can say whatever they want to say, they don’t give a fuck.
HAIM is one of those bands that heavily relies not only on each individual member's relationship to their instrument(s), but also their musical relationships to each other. Well, they’re sisters. They know how to play together; they know how to create an energy together. And in this case, they created a sound that is reckless and crisp at the same time, the type of effortlessness that only comes from years of practice and dedication. The too-cool-for-school energy elaborated by the instrumentation has major Rolling Stones energy, which I’ll never complain about. I’d say they’re the main reference here.
HAIM is from the slice of heaven on earth known as the Valley, found in Los Angeles, California. They never did the whole “I left home to follow my dreams in [insert notable city]” thing, and continue to show everyone that being a hometown girl is cool. Granted, much easier when your hometown is a notable city. Don’t forget that they have cigarettes in LA too! Being so intrinsically and unabashedly tied to LA does two major things on this album: it shifts the grounding force of the album from a time period to a place, and it presents a refreshing narrative of LA. You could hear this album wafting out of a shitty venue on the Sunset Strip in any decade from the 70s to now, but I’d be hard pressed to believe it could be the product of any city besides LA. Tying themselves to a place not a time, especially when that place is LA, is sort of ballsy really. Especially when LA is now synonymous with the inauthentic and the Erewhon, delivering this type of sunny, gravelly mess shows the world that LA still has an edge.
HAIM, bless them, are not lyricists. They have their moments, like “Relationships” and “Million years.” Here’s what I recommend for this album: shift your idea of words from sentiment to sound and then you really get the catharsis of it all. Appreciate the gorgeous laid-back melisma chorus on “Try to feel my pain” or the pancake flat “behiiiind” on “Down to be wrong.” I eat it for breakfast. This album really is more about feel than their other projects, which, again, makes it quite hard to pin down. Fuck it, I don’t think they want me to.
My highlights: “Relationships” is a perfect song. “Million years” has not left my head since the album's release and the drums are actually balls-to-the-wall insane. I wish I thought of “Try to feel my pain” myself. I could recognize Rostam’s grubby little fingers on the bridge of “Now it’s time” in any lifetime. Este’s lead vocals on “Cry” and the first verse of “Blood on the street”... she should have been singing lead for years. Lowlights: “Take me back” is “Walk on the Wild Side” for daddy’s money indie sleaze with a post-chorus that could have easily been omitted. “All over me” is the mid-album slump but as the second song, move it or get rid of it. I love the Rolling Stones energy of the entire album except “The farm,” which is bordering parody.
Women in Music Pt. III is still it for me. Really, it’s not HAIM’s or I quit’s fault. I just can’t let it go. HAIM, continue to be cool and musical, and continue to make it cool to be so sickly obsessed with music and LA and LA music. Or maybe I just think that’s cool. Maybe that’s why I’ll always think you're cool. Fuck it.