Haley Heynderickx Sifts Through the Mud of Life on Seed of a Seed

We can avoid a lot of unpleasantness by looking down at our devices. We can swerve frightening feelings, eliminate boredom or temporarily drop out of a constant loop of self-doubt with a cheery podcast, a never-ending for-you-page or a meditation app. We can ignore what songwriter Haley Heynderickx refers to as “the haggard things” we “don’t want to feel.”

But being in touch with ourselves, and nature, is key to a healthier inner life, or so the story goes on Heynderickx’s marvelous new album Seed of a Seed. This path looks different for everyone, and this is not to say she has it all figured out, but in Heynderickx’s music, a confrontation with emotion is as crucial to longevity as food and water. And nature isn’t just something to get away to for a weekend, or the weeds cracking in the sidewalk or a sunbeam unspooling onto your Wayfair rug—nature’s very rhythms are woven into each note. It’s all connected. Heynderickx sings, “Man, I’d do anything to hear the Redwoods talk.” But on Seed, I can hear them singing.

The Redwoods are just part of a big biological chorus on Seed of a Seed. You can hear the squish of the meadow beneath boots on “Foxglove,” the crashing of a wave on “Swoop” and the creeping proliferation of algae on “Mouth of a Flower.” From savoring a purple clover to tasting the sweet dew of morning, every breath of Seed is in communion with nature. It’s part of a tasting menu that also features the works of Walt Whitman and Barbara Kingsolver.

The guitar work may sound uncomplicated at first blush, but that’s only because it’s so effortless. Haley Heynderickx is a true triple threat—vocalist, lyricist and guitarist—and her genius arrangements unfold upon repeat listens. Opener “Gemini” is a frantic self-takedown that features some of the most seductive strums of the album. The chords on “Jerry’s Song” pleasantly burble up over the smooth stones of bass, cello and layered vocals. And “Spit in the Sink” is a poem—about how we all try to create in spite of a tech-sick world that tells us creativity isn’t useful—that thanks to a sinewy melody proves itself as a song over and over again.

There are too many other whip-smart lyrical strands to follow in one review, but one of Seed’s noteworthy themes is the miracle of a new day. Each new morning is “an offering,” as Heynderickx declares on “Sorry Fahey,” whose title is likely a nod to primitive guitar great John Fahey. Or, as she puts it on “Swoop,” “[t]here’s an artistry in the day to day.” And this kind of creativity isn’t found in a Zoom meeting or a social feed. It’s more likely in “free time” and “a hand next to mine,” both of which Heynderickx longs for on the title track.

As she did on her first album I Need to Start a Garden, Heynderickx shows us that meaning can just easily be found in big existential questions and experiences as it can in the most minute details, down to a seed or a bug (her fixation on “The Bug Collector,” from her debut). The songs are as vast as canyons while also as fleeting as an ant.

Glimpses at that dichotomy are all over Seed, but especially in “Sorry Fahey,” which comes with the realization that maybe adulthood starts when you “learn to appreciate” little things like calling a grandparent, making ginger tea in the kettle and petting your black cat who is an asshole. “It starts to make sense,” she sings. “To know your body keeps score.”

Adulthood certainly demonstrates that bodies do store emotions, and Haley Heynderickx seems to be reminding us that we ought to give them the attention they deserve. Sometimes that involves shutting out all the noise for a bit: “A silent mind in a consumer flood.” She never preaches at or even instructs the listener. But lessons—or at least some worthy questions—are still there on Seed of a Seed, if you look up.

Ellen Johnson is a former Paste music editor and forever pop culture enthusiast. Presently, she’s a full-time editor and part-time writer. You can find her in Atlanta, or rewatching Little Women on Letterboxd.