Tobias Jesso Jr.'s newest musical offering, 'Shine,' arrives nearly a decade after his critically acclaimed debut, 'Goon.' This highly anticipated second album reveals a significant artistic evolution, moving away from the more produced sound of his earlier work towards a raw, introspective, and intensely personal sonic landscape. Jesso, who previously found success as a sought-after songwriter for other artists, now rediscovers his own voice, presenting a collection of tracks that explore the complexities of human emotion with remarkable candor and a stripped-down aesthetic.
Hailing from Canada, Tobias Jesso Jr. initially sought a career in Los Angeles during the early 2010s, primarily contributing his songwriting talents to other musicians and playing bass. His fortunes shifted dramatically with the independent release of several singles under his own name, quickly drawing the attention of a previously inaccessible music industry. His 2015 debut, 'Goon,' resonated with a melancholic, nostalgic vibe reminiscent of the Laurel Canyon era, as he delved into personal struggles and positioned himself within the rich tradition of Los Angeles singer-songwriters. This poignant exploration of shattered aspirations ultimately served as his breakout moment, propelling him into collaborations with major artists such as Harry Styles and FKA twigs, and earning him the inaugural Grammy for Songwriter of the Year in 2023. His subsequent retreat from the limelight fostered an impression of an almost fairy-tale ending, a rarity in the contemporary music scene, where a decade-long hiatus seemed to imply a sense of ultimate contentment.
However, reality, as often is the case, proved more intricate than this idyllic perception. 'Shine' dispels the illusion of a perfect, static happily-ever-after, instead deepening the narrative with its candid exploration of genuine sentiment. Jesso once again crafts his compositions from a place of authentic emotion, yet simultaneously embodies the archetypal bedroom balladeer. The album evokes a faded memory of his first record, which, despite its fuller arrangements, is often recalled as a solitary piano-and-vocal journey. Here, the instrumentation is genuinely sparse, with the notable exception of an unexpected percussive crescendo on 'I Love You,' so startling it feels akin to revealing a surprise twist in a suspense film. These are compositions built on a human scale, resembling intricate demos that, in their unadorned honesty, bring Jesso's conceptual leanings to the forefront. 'Shine' functions as a series of meticulously crafted sketches, magnified to the grandeur of finished works, and in their raw intensity, they surpass mere final drafts.
One can easily envision how other artists might expand upon a track like the opening number, 'Waiting Around,' which delicately unfolds a narrative of a troubled relationship over a shimmering piano. While there's ample room for a more elaborate arrangement, Jesso's rendition highlights the subtle distinction between pop's glossy exterior and its underlying artistry. These hushed, understated four minutes stand as a masterclass in precise delivery and controlled vocal inflection. Jesso's voice possesses a contemporary quality, shedding any overt '70s influences, particularly evident in the fluid manner he delivers lines such as 'You and I met/At a friend's party,' or the pronounced emphasis on the 'c' sound in 'So ridiculous.'
Jesso's lyrical prowess, which has evolved into a more intricate and astute form since the wistful generalizations of his debut, occasionally echoes the allegorical wit found in artists like Sabrina Carpenter. On 'Black Magic,' he quips, 'Lovin' you's worse than/Customer service. Can you imagine that?' Yet, many of his words convey an unvarnished anguish that mirrors the sparse musical backdrop. He meticulously examines the dissolution of a relationship with the intensity of someone still grappling with its aftermath: 'Remember when we drove/Along the coastal line/The ocean wide and clear,' he recounts in a verse on the beautiful, winding 'Rain,' only to fast-forward to the present where he and his beloved sit on a bench, tearfully watching an ominous cloud gather. Jesso consciously acknowledges this self-referential moment, asking, 'Is it a metaphor for you and I?'
While 'Goon' grappled with the fear of failure, 'Shine' contemplates themes of futility and stagnation, the unsettling possibility of being trapped in a cyclical existence. 'You run like there's dogs abound,' he cries on 'Black Magic'; 'I'm chasing my own tail.' Earlier this month, Jesso revealed to the Los Angeles Times that he had become creatively stifled by the demands of being a hired songwriter, unable to suppress his own emotions while serving the artistic visions of others. This realization led him to clear his schedule and dedicate himself exclusively to his own music for the first time in a decade. The profound weight of this personal and artistic reckoning is palpable throughout the album, as he confesses on 'Bridges,' 'I just don’t know myself anymore, 'Cause I do things now that I never did before.'
'Goon,' as a debut, was a polished affair, boasting collaborations with renowned producers. 'Shine' takes a notably different approach. While Justin Vernon and Danielle Haim contribute as songwriters on a few tracks, they do not appear as performers, seemingly exchanging roles with Jesso. This deliberate choice speaks to the album's core intention: a raw, unadorned drama, the 29-minute record blurs the lines between creator and participant, offering a glimpse behind the scenes. This approach would falter if the songs themselves weren't so inherently potent—trembling with earnestness and imbued with an apparently effortless ambiance. While this may be Jesso's 'unplugged' album, closer listening reveals that his meticulously restored Steinway is far from unadorned. The subtle rustle of an open hi-hat provides a delicate backbone to 'Waiting Around' and 'Green Eyes,' while 'Black Magic' and 'Rain' feature fleeting electronic phrases that echo the main melody.
Ultimately, Jesso boldly reinterprets his own artistic framework, evoking the poignant final phase of alt-rock pioneers Low more than any gentler predecessors. A high-impact drum part, delivered by his friend Kane Ritchotte, powerfully punctuates the sentimental chords and vocal fry of the album's centerpiece, 'I Love You.' Its initial entry is hesitant, yet it quickly becomes overwhelmingly loud and distorted, particularly striking given its placement deep within such a subdued album. The drums swiftly envelop the entire track. This intense peak simultaneously suggests a profound emotional wound and a recognition of the recording studio's transformative power, demonstrating how a simple rhythm can completely consume these sorrowful, angst-ridden compositions. The vulnerability of the songwriter and the raw force of the accompaniment are both starkly accentuated by their compelling juxtaposition.
The album's concluding track, 'Lullabye,' gently eases the intense energy of 'I Love You' into a soft shimmer of cymbals. Jesso softly croons, 'Don't you know you have to break apart/To really Shine?' He may be moving forward, but the essence of his journey lies in the very process that led him here: his life and his songwriting practice colliding and fracturing. His willingness to expose these fragments, rather than attempting to conceal the imperfections, renders this artistic self-portrait both powerful and undeniably authentic.