At a time when so many pop artists are creating concept albums, it can be refreshing to listen to one that speaks directly to the current moment through an incredibly clear-cut and deeply resonant theme: breakups. Given how both Trump administrations, the pandemic, the #MeToo movement, and a thousand other bad things have contributed to our isolated, unstable milieu, it’s no wonder more and more young people, particularly young women, are becoming increasingly hesitant about and dissatisfied with dating. Who better to articulate the nuances of this romantic apprehension and discontent than Danielle, Alana, and Este Haim?
Throughout their robust discography, the self-assured millennial trio of sisters has proven to be extremely well-versed in this topic, chronicling the frequent frustrations and occasional joys of being in a relationship, as well as the brutal heartache and fleeting hope in ending one. Their breakout hit “The Wire” was all about this, with each band member soundtracking their disappointment with their lovers and owning up to their own romantic mistakes with galloping guitar riffs, snappy drum fills, and their now-iconic “Hah!” ad-lib. On their latest album, I quit, HAIM continues to stretch the emotional elasticity of this recurring idea in their work by making their most declarative stance yet on the state of modern romance.
As the album’s pithy title implies, the sisters would rather leave than settle for something that no longer meets their expectations or serves their needs. Even though the concept of self-advocacy is not new or radical, HAIM understand how overwhelmingly powerful and liberating it can be to recognize your own worth and prioritize your happiness, despite the risk of pain and loneliness that comes with making that choice. With I quit, they’ve found an effective way to translate the complexity of that experience into a potent musical expression.
Further flexing the genre-bending path they forged on 2020’s eclectic Women in Music Pt. III, I quit is perhaps the most animated and unbothered HAIM have ever sounded. The record is their longest to date, but rarely does it lag, holding a steady momentum across its 15 tracks with sneakily poignant lyrics and extremely catchy, hook-heavy instrumentation. On top of its plethora of sensorial pleasures, I quit also marks a significant shift from HAIM’s past outputs: It’s the band’s first album without Ariel Rechtshaid, their longtime collaborator and Danielle’s ex. In an interview with i-D back in March, Danielle coyly described the process of working with Rechtshaid, who produced for HAIM since their 2013 debut Days Are Gone, and whom Danielle broke up with in 2022, as a “longer, searching, labored situation.” It’s a somewhat surprising revelation, considering Rechtshaid’s prolific track record, but as I quit thrums along, it becomes gradually clear how creatively limited the band was before this project.
The album contains a breadth of innovative stylistic choices, which range from George Michael and U2 samples (“Gone,” “Now It’s Time”) and ‘80s synths (“Spinning”) to sing-speaking (“Take Me Back”) to Shania Twain-inflected country-pop (“The Farm”). Even the marketing rollout for the album, in which HAIM recreated early-2000s paparazzi pics, signals a fun, fresh aesthetic update on the band’s retro SoCal image. Although I quit isn’t the first time HAIM have played with form—recall the woozy hip-hop of “My Song 5” and “3 AM,” the pitch-shifting on “Nothing’s Wrong” and “Little of Your Love,” and the reggae influence on “Another Try”—the experimental impulses here are beguiling and buoyant in a way they haven’t been before. Much of that can likely be attributed to Rostam Batmanglij, the highly underrated ex-Vampire Weekend member who has produced great work for HAIM and other pop musicians, like Clairo and Carly Rae Jepsen. In taking Rechtshaid’s place as executive producer, Batmanglij both complements HAIM’s introspection and malaise and elevates the results to dazzling, propulsive effect.
Take, for instance, “Relationships,” I quit’s crisp, easy-breezy lead single: Batmanglij’s sparkly, ‘90s R&B-inspired production crackles like a cool can of soda in the summertime, yet the band’s angsty DNA is still unmistakably there. In a way, the song acts almost as a spiritual sequel to “The Wire” (and shares a similarly lengthy recording process, no less). Where “The Wire” was forthright and cheeky about its subject matter, “Relationships” is more uncertain and on-edge, its groovy, circular rhythm building and contracting to perfectly match Danielle’s spiraling around the difficulty of navigating and maintaining romantic connections. She sifts through a carousel of possible reasons for why dating is so hard, from anxious attachment to “the shit our parents did,” but ultimately concludes on a note of radical acceptance, believing this seemingly never-ending cycle of loving and growing apart from someone is just an inherent part of the process until we eventually figure it out. That sentiment may not be wholly satisfying, but it is honest, and the song’s infectious beat makes its hard truths easier to reconcile.
Throughout the rest of I quit, HAIM, Batmanglij, and co-producer Buddy Ross continue to mine from this rich land of contrasts—between soft and harsh, upbeat and downbeat, doubt and confidence—and uncover some real treasures in doing so. The frisky “All Over Me” relishes in the perks of singlehood and the allure of secret flings, backing Danielle’s seductive come-ons (“And when you’re face to face with me / On your knees or underneath”) with distorted, crunchy guitars and faint hints of sitar. “Take Me Back” flits through colorful memories of the band’s rowdy teenage years against a frenzied combination of harmonica and glockenspiel, eventually settling into a bluesy, saxophone-laced outro. “Love You Right,” an early highlight, punctuates Danielle’s melancholy around her lost love with a sharp snare before melting into Batmanglij’s reliably poignant piano riffs and a delicate backing vocal assist from Bon Iver’s Justin Vernon—whom Danielle collaborated with on “If Only I Could Wait” earlier this year.
These disarming shifts in tone suggest I quit is a bit sonically scattered, and it certainly can be. There are moments where it strains itself to stick to the band’s usual alt-rock formula like on “Everybody’s Trying to Figure Me Out” and “Down to Be Wrong,” and there are moments where the more unconventional flourishes—such as the use of George Michael’s “Freedom! ‘90” on “Gone” and the thumping synths on “Spinning”—sound cooler in theory than in execution. However, the messiness is part of the album’s charm, and because its thematic anchor is so coherent and compelling, HAIM have more room to play with their production style rather than being confined to the glossy polish that often stifled their previous efforts.
“The Farm,” for instance, begins with a warm, gentle acoustic guitar that widens to encompass a tambourine and banjo so evocative, it’s like walking into a honky-tonk at the tail end of the night. The kinetic, instantly addictive breakbeat that bubbles underneath “Million Years” gives an exciting glimpse into the band’s potential were they to ever make a full pivot into pop. “Cry,” another album standout, is an affecting, piercing ballad where, just like on “The Wire,” each HAIM sister gets a turn on the mic to share their grievances and misgivings about their romantic pasts, but they each deliver them with the same rousing gravitas as The Chicks. As the sisters soulfully harmonize against a simple, strutting instrumental, “Cry” plays like a full-circle moment for the sisters, united by their history of grief and resilience. HAIM may be bruised and continue to be bruised and sing about how bruised they are, but in reframing and reclaiming the act of quitting as something to embrace rather than dread, the sisters’ relief from the creative and romantic strains that plagued them before is both palpable and cathartic.
Sam Rosenberg is a filmmaker and freelance entertainment writer from Los Angeles with bylines in The Daily Beast, Consequence, AltPress and Metacritic. You can find him on Twitter @samiamrosenberg.
