Jacob Barrett completely dismantles the illusion of composure on his stunning new single, “Here I Go Again.” At first blush, the San Francisco multi-instrumentalist sets up a relatively subdued, rhythmic bounce. It feels like measured, perfectly pleasant indie pop.
But that steady facade is incredibly fragile. The lyrics dive headfirst into the messy, alienating reality of living with a chronic illness. Barrett captures the specific horror of being puppeted by internal imbalances and the very coping mechanisms built to survive them. As he sings about the isolation that breeds when desperate attempts to find support only fracture your relationships, the instrumentation turns against the calm.
A staggering organic orchestra cello, violin, piano, trumpet, trombone, and clarinet collides with punchy pop synths and driving drums. The track violently swells from a melancholic shuffle into a chaotic, breathless wall of sound. It is an anxious, beautiful frenzy that flawlessly mimics the psychological void of losing your own self-control. And then, without warning, the energy abruptly flatlines. You are left suspended in a sparse, hollow quiet that gently decays.
It leaves a profound ache in the room. Is there anything more deeply terrifying, yet oddly validating, than hearing someone perfectly score their own internal unspooling?
