Haim – I Quit Review

Between rewatching The Simpsons and travelling to and from gigs, there is a small window of time for contemporary music. I Quit, the latest album by Haim, is cause for celebration. Whatever they are quitting comes to light across their fifteen songs. Enough room for reflection, for projection, but never a clear answer from the Haim trio. There are hints this is a curtain call for Haim. They want our attention, one last time, on opener Gone. But this is not a testament to what they will do next – it is the endlessness, the possibility of anything, which the group finds comfort in. We should too. It is as truthful for the Haim sisters as it is for the listener. An album which calls on a listener to make the most of uncharted waters, I Quit finds the band paired with a new producer and a fresh sound. 

Haim is not departing from the independence, the sincerity in their rebellion, that much remains. Any group around for this long must find new instrumental routes to their message, and I Quit provides plenty of that. Gone brings in tremendous backing vocals, a bed of consistent and appealing rock noise, and a message which lays its anger bare. Articulate fury is hard to come by, but Haim offers many incredible moments of white-hot rage, the sort of debilitating anger which usually leaves a person lost for words. Haim has plenty to say here. Reflection is a misrepresentation of memory, whatever the emotion. We idealise some moments, feel cold to others. That interpretation of the past can change on any given day. I Quit has some of that, a scattershot of mourning, madness, and moments of longing. Down to Be Wrong and Take Me Back is a double bill of opposing feelings. It is not hypocritical; it is the natural sway of emotional turmoil which I Quit charts so impressively.

I Quit finds a steady tempo almost unconsciously. This is not the seven stages of grief put to song, the loss of a relationship and the spiral to come is far more complex than categories of bartering and grieving. Love You Right has the pleading occasion laid bare, the harshness of love, but the want of it to continue. Independence prevails towards the end of the album after a sentiment-free, instrumentally strong lookback on the peaks and valleys of the relationship ending. I Quit is a defiant act not just in title, but in its musical advances, the stronger core Haim has found with songs destined to be a part of their all-time greats. Everybody’s Trying to Figure Me Out is certainly up there with the best of the Haim discography.  Contemporary catchiness can be found in little bursts from Haim here, whose turn on I Quit is more focused on the flow of their new style than on conforming to what audiences may want.  

Romantic hang-ups dominate music, it always has, and it always will. Finding a fresh way through, a new perspective on the hangups and heartbreaks, is the tricky part. A seemingly impossible task that Haim conquers on the bulk of I Quit. They are not pandering to those who are left in tears at every turn, though Cry comes close. But these are the relatable moments the band must leave in to make this transition to a sound they had always wanted to capture more agreeable, both to the dedicated listener and those who are marking their first experience with Haim on I Quit. Danielle Haim and the band do much more than grieve. It works brilliantly, a well-formed and fundamentally complete album covering the grieving process, from the ugly lows to the inevitable freedom which comes once it’s all over. There is no such thing as the good old days, album closer Now It’s Time suggests. That much is a fundamental truth which pushes I Quit to its limit.