Much has been made of our modern age of distraction. In her 2019 book How to do nothingJenny Odell warns of the damaging consequences of giving in to the forces constantly vying for our attention—social media feeds, gamified consumer culture, the exponentially bleak 24-hour news cycle. He cites ethicist James Williams, who writes, “In the short term, distractions can prevent us from doing the things we want to do. In the long term, however, they can accumulate and prevent us from living the life we want to live.” These are not petty concerns, says Williams – there are “profound ethical implications lurking here for freedom, well-being, even the integrity of the self.”
I wouldn't be surprised if Oregon singer-songwriter Haley Heynderickx had a worn copy of Odell's work on her bookshelf. On the opening track of Heynderickx's second album, Seed of a Seeddistressed about this attention problem: She feels guilty, addicted to her phone, and avoids texting while counting “the worthless things I've bought for someone's profit.” But she's being chased by another version of herself, one that eventually causes Heynderickx to slow down and refocus—namely, to “look at the purple clover off the highway.” Flowers help. suddenly, the song's restless heartbeat slows, blossoming into soft acoustic and sweeping electric guitar.
This proposition – that a turn to the natural world can be an escape from the chaos of modern life – runs throughout Heynderickx's songwriting (and is, in fact, a key tenant of How to do nothing). In her debut, in 2018 I need to start a gardenHeynderickx compared human kindness to “honeycomb/Keeps the bee in the folds” and her vision of romance included gently removing a bug from her lover's room. “The edge of my existence is essentially a comedy,” he sang. the solution, of course, was to “open a garden.”
On Seed of a SeedHeynderickx foregrounds this theme and explores its inner concerns and the wisdom that can be gleaned from outside the confines of our minds. She tells these stories in a honey-rich voice that can sweep from strong notes to playful sing-song. Her songs often take place on the border between modernity and nature: She doubts the fulfillment of the dreams of the big city while circling a fox. She is stuck driving her car but finds time to communicate with a pebble in a stream. Cell phones and hummingbirds appear almost equally. While her plucked guitar is the emotional core of her songs, she pushes her sonic palette a little wider here. Cello and trombone give songs like “Redwoods (Anxious God)” and “Sorry Fahey” an earthy richness and depth. the lightning-fast guitar riffs and tight harmonies on “Spit in the Sink” give the song a comfortable, familiar feel.
