The phenomenon of poptimism describes, first and foremost, a journalistic – now ubiquitous – ideology that rejects the (often sexist) idea that mainstream pop musicians produce disposable junk, while rock bands alone create artistically significant classics. Poptimism places mainstream pop on the same level as subcultural music genres, giving it the same level of serious consideration.
I Quit
Yet poptimism – I wrote my undergraduate thesis on this – has been felt not only in the output of critics but also in the way new indie acts suddenly began to sound. On the US music podcast Indiecast, it’s been noted more than once that 2013 saw the arrival of a number of artists who theoretically came from indie backgrounds but deliberately adopted the sound of giant mainstream pop stars. Think of Lorde (Pure Heroine), The 1975 (The 1975), or indeed Haim (Days Are Gone).
There was a shift in the indie world, and suddenly polished pop aesthetics became cool. Haim, in particular, quickly won people over as a sharp, perfect pop band dressed in indie clothing. Or vice versa, an indie band in pop clothing. Either way, it didn’t matter.
Not tasteful, but free
Now, the three sisters – Danielle, Alana and Este – have released their fourth album. It’s titled I Quit and it’s about breaking out; even from that earlier pop veneer, if you like. I’ll do whatever I want, Danielle sings on the opening track »Gone«, setting the tone for I Quit with its unfiltered, chaotic, but above all free energy. At its core, this is a break-up album, much of it revolving around Danielle’s split with music producer Ariel Rechtshaid, who was instrumental in shaping Haim’s previous pop sound and was also her partner.
Haim are leaving him – and a thousand other things – behind, in the spirit of: previously trapped, now finally unbound. »Everybody’s Trying To Figure Me Out« might be the album’s best track, while Haim deliberately make it harder for us to figure them out. Unlike their previous albums, I Quit doesn’t take you by the hand; you have to draw your own map through it. That’s what makes it so much fun. This is no longer a classic pop release.
The subtle element of trashiness that I Quit embraces, in contrast to Haim’s smoother earlier records, is essential too. The album takes risks, and there are moments when it could have gone wrong. Down to be Wrong – happy to be wrong – is how Danielle puts it in the title of another highlight. She is promoting a form of uncertainty that is ultimately far more exciting than stylistic safety, both lyrically and musically.
There’s a bold sample of George Michael’s »Freedom! ’90«, and on »Million Years« the band even ventures into drum’n’bass grooves, while at the end, they sample U2. On the face of it, these are uncool reference points for a band previously known for 70s-inspired California pop. It’s the same with the lead single »Relationships«: hip-hop beats and scratch sounds aren’t typically considered tasteful in songs like this, but that’s exactly the point – Haim no longer want to be tasteful on I Quit; they want to be free.
»The real barrier to break, is the one I feel inside«.
Frei von was eigentlich genau? Haim haben ein Album geschafft, das den Aufarbeitungsprozess nach einer Trennung sehr gut einfängt.
Free from what, exactly? Haim have made an album that captures the process of working through a breakup with impressive clarity. Many of these experiments pay off for the sisters. And when they don’t, it never feels like a problem, because Haim operate on I Quit with complete freedom from the idea that they need to make perfect pop music. It keeps bringing me back to a quote from Kendrick Lamar during his Grammy acceptance speech for Mr. Morale & The Big Steppers: I finally found imperfection with this album. Haim, too, have been searching for something like that, and they’ve found it here in the rough-edged, scratchy I Quit.
You say we’re all the same, I think I’m different, Danielle sings on the gorgeous »Love You Right«, making it clear that the band is perfectly happy to stand out here. It’s a flawed album, and that’s exactly the mentality it carries. Is that a lazy observation, a way to romanticise music that’s not fully polished? Maybe. But ultimately, the core of I Quit is something I can use right now. Sure, it works perfectly as a feminist statement on empowerment – being single is a major narrative here, linking Haim to the brat-summer vibe – but for me, this album is also an encouragement to shed old patterns. For someone who is often compulsively trying to sort out their life, I Quit feels like a necessary act of liberation; almost like the ultra-laid-back hangout album Exile on Main St by The Rolling Stones. As Danielle Haim puts it best herself on the closer »Now It’s Time*: The real barrier to break, is the one I feel inside.
