The first thing that strikes you about Jess Cornelius, of course, is her haunting voice. It’s right up there with the vocal chops of Erika Wennerstrom and the honesty of Patsy Cline.
Her new album, Distance, starts out with the powerful “Kitchen Floor” – a song about getting up and moving on after a one night stand (which, I suspect, is both a literal tale and a metaphor for moving forward when things are tough, even if that walk from the bedroom and out the front door feels like a marathon) and then finding a lover who isn’t so easy to leave. The groove on it is empowering. “No Difference” is a song summed up by the Zen proverb “Let go or be dragged.” Cornelius sings, “If it’s gone, it’s gone. You gotta keep on doing without it, and one day it’ll feel like none of this was real.” Tony Buchen‘s keyboard work on the track is excellent.
Cornelius gets real and raw on the electro-poppy “Body Memory” – a song about the loss of a child and how the loss left her unsure of everything. The country-tinged “Easy for No One” has Cornelius realizing that living in the past is a treacherous game (“I keep wasting my time on other things, like thinking of the past and all the other lives I could’ve lived instead.”). She gets real about lust and hot sex on “Here Goes Nothing” (and Buchen lays down a cool bass groove) with lyrics like “…nothing kills lust like real life.” and “…you know that we won’t want each other if we could actually be lovers.”
The subtle “Born Again” pulls the veil back on Cornelius’ feelings of isolation as a younger woman (“Have you ever wanted to be loved so bad, and not by a person who could love you back, and not by a person at all, but by the world?”). The addition of Mary Lattimore‘s harp is a beautiful touch. “Palm Tress” drifts from an alt-country sound to shimmering Southern California shoegaze thanks to Michael Rosen‘s keys and Cornelius’ guitar work.
“Banging My Head” would’ve been a massive hit were it released in the mid-90’s era of Liz Phair, as it’s full of self-anger (about returning back to old behaviors and bad relationships) and big, bold chords and softer verses, not unlike a Pixies track. “Street Haunting” has a neat, rolling groove that weaves throughout it without beating you over the head. The closer “Love and Low Self-Esteem” has Cornelius finding the strength to talk about being jilted, but also knowing that she still has some longing for her ex (“I just don’t care at all, that’s what I’m gonna say to you when it is true, when I no longer need a single thing from you.”).
The title of Distance covers a lot of ground. It’s easy in this time of COVID-19 to apply it to all of us distancing from each other, and even members of our own families. It can refer to the distance Cornelius feels in her heart toward ex-lovers, her current beau, and herself at different stages of her life. It can refer to the physical distance between her English homeland and California, to the passage of time, the healing of wounds, and probably a dozen other things. The album is a look into Cornelius’ heart, but at arm’s length. She’s not going to let just anybody in there, but she is willing to share her stories and encourage us to look into our own hearts. Bridging that gap in ourselves will eventually let us bridge the gaps we’ve built between others.
Keep your mind open.
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[Thanks to Jaycee at Pitch Perfect PR.]
