Twanged out indie rocker Jessica Lea Mayfield has never been one to beat around the bush with flowery metaphors and loose situational representations of her own struggles; much like a modernist short story writer, she is economical with her words, always direct and to the point. Her latest album, Sorry Is Gone, is no exception. As emotionally raw as ever, Mayfield shows a tremendous amount of personal growth as she invites the listener to join her as she picks apart the remnants of her abusive marriage.
Because the subject matter is so personal to her, Mayfield approaches the album with an array of different sounds, searching for the right soundtrack for her gut-wrenching tale. We get a taste of the same fuzzy guitar that she has been so fond of in the past on songs like “Meadow,” but there’s also a variety of other influences at play. Mayfield makes an effort to construct a more detailed texture than on her previous albums, drawing from such wells as mid-1990s alternative rock (“Wish You Could See Me Now,” “Bum Me Out”) and power pop explosions (“Offa My Hands”), before ending on a track that appears to be paying direct homage to Sharon Van Etten (“Too Much Terrible”). Critics of Jessica Lea Mayfield have clung to the undeniable similarities of many of her songs, but Sorry Is Gone sees her painting with every hue at her disposal.
It’s no secret that the album was born out of domestic abuse, and it shows Mayfield standing up for herself and declaring that no one should be stripped of their power (“I deserve to occupy this space without feeling like I don’t belong”). Her first step toward recovery is speaking out about a problem that is unfairly stigmatized in contemporary society. That’s not to say that she is asking for pity. Sorry Is Gone is a self-affirming piece, particularly in the double shot of “Offa My Hands” and “World Won’t Stop,” which advocate moving forward, rather than wallowing in the pain of tragedy.
In the past, Mayfield has gnarled her lyrics with a snarky smirk, and even when confronting her gravest demons, she proves that she still takes solace in her acerbic sense of humor. “Safe 2 Connect 2,” a folk song for the 21st century, opens with the delightfully barbed line “Getting tips on how to feel more human / Or how to un-dehumanize someone, I’m only asking for a friend.” In an age where we see Google as the curator of all recorded information, it only makes sense that we would turn to an internet search engine to teach us how to be human. She isn’t the first voice to point out our technology-induced detachment, but she does so with such tongue-in-cheek charm that it feels like a fresh observation.
Pain is universal, and vulnerability often makes for resonating art. So much of Jessica Lea Mayfield’s appeal stems from her directness. Music lovers won’t be churning over this album for years to come in an attempt to try and find some hidden message. Mayfield has steered us toward her intentions the only way she knows how: by wearing her heart on her sleeve. She is confronting her attacker with sincerity, which strips him of any power that may unintentionally come along with ambiguity.
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