Next Town's Trees

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‘Next Town’s Trees’ is an 8 track album by Boise indie-folk musician, Jesse Blake Rundle, produced with bandmate and engineer, Nate Agenbroad.

“I wrote these songs during a time of immense change in my life: I was finally leaving the church, uncovering my sexuality, starting my first relationship with a man, figuring out joy in sobriety, and settling into my life as a musician,” he says. Jesse explores themes of modern identity and self discovery with a poet’s eye for detail. His acute observations are capable of catharsis and comfort during dark times.

“Can we have it all again?” Jesse sings on the first track ‘Fire.’ As an opening, ‘Fire’ not only establishes the album’s mood but is a story in itself. A farm house burns on the Kansas hills. Everything is lost. But, there is still a desire to be present: “I burned a fire for the future, I burned a fire for the past, I lit a candle for the bread we break and pass around this table, and hope it lasts.” Like the rest of the album, the arrangements here are ambitious; synthesizers and horns augment Jesse’s humble acoustic guitar and his trenchant vocals. ‘Fire’ sets the stage for an album that will not diminish to embers.

After the opener, the album changes tact with “Fools and Ghosts” - the first single. Anchored by a beguiling guitar line, the song is equally indebted to Radiohead as it is to sailor sea shanties. It’s the sort of quick, catchy, immediately likable tune that becomes more rewarding on repeat listens.“Take all that I have and take all that I want,” Jesse belts during the chorus, offering himself to a metaphorical and literal raging sea. The central hook rises and falls throughout the song, nearly disappearing during an unexpected and off-kilter bridge, before finally dissolving in the song's final seconds. With this track and “Fire,” Jesse has offered two of the best folk rock tracks in recent memory.

And if the album had been content to deliver mid-tempo rockers, it would have been a triumph. But it’s clear Jesse has more ambitious goals. After the opening couplet, the album takes a breath, lowers its defenses and opens up a softer side. ‘I Want you to Know’ explores a troubled relationship.“I want you , I want you to know, I didn’t mean to whisper in the words I said” Jesse sings in a electronic-singed register. The song has the timber of an emotionless confession, two lovers flatly coming to terms with each other, but just when the song should fade out, drift away on a note of pained resignation, a brass section emerges and imbues the track with unexpected optimism.

Then, the stage is set for “White Hot,” the second single and anchor of the entire album. Of the song, Jesse says, “My first experiences with love after coming out were some of the warmest, richest experiences I’ve ever had.” A classic love song, “White Hot” features a whispering Jesse as he attempts to articulate the indescribable: young love. Babbling through three verses before sighing into a stunning chorus, the song evokes dreamy innocence that somehow avoids feeling simple or naive. His voice becomes as rhythmic as a snare drum as the track becomes more propulsive : “Like a lover tell me weather stories in the meadow under nothing but a yellow hot bright and blue.” The song understands how rare it is to fall in love, and every time it happens, it’s a miracle.

“White Hot”s buoyancy seeps into the following track, “Yes, I’m Angry,” but this time the lyrics run perpendicular to a jaunty earworm. “Yes, I’m Angry/ and I’m not supposed to be / I know, I know, I’m the one coming clean,” he sings on the opening verse. It is a frank depiction of rage, one that expresses the nuances and paradoxes of human anger. Is it true that life’s bitter fights and disagreements descend from our most loving and cherished relationships? Here, Rundle holds tentatively to a happy future: “and we’ll someday be happy / we’ll not never be happy.” The music itself reflects his uncertainty. The production takes the song’s rich textures and wrings out every conceivable thought of empathy. The song is fulsome and autumnal despite itself; Jesse can rage, but love is bound to spring from such concentric swirls.

With ‘Hand in Hand’ Jesse is back to romance. He sings “No one can hear us laughing, no one can hear us loving” with a soft echo pulsating. It’s a procession designed for deep contemplation and evoking the wet streets and fall trees of Boise, Idaho. It’s warm, respectful, and coming to the denouement, even spiritual. Another departure on an album that displays the full gambit of subtle diversions.

Out of an unfocused haze rises the title track, ‘Next Town’s Trees.’ “In 2007 I spent a year in Santa Fe,” Rundle says of the song. “I’d often sit in this park where the nearby monastery bell tower would ring, but it would only reach the park bench where I sat when the wind blew it in. That’s the image of this song for me. A bell-tower that’s now in the distance and almost a memory. It’s a story of moving on from my evangelical faith.”

From the first moments of this track, it’s clear the album has also moved on: past folk rock, past pop music structure, past assumptions on what albums must be in 2022. Pulsating plumes of synths emerge – almost post-rock in their intensity – and then Rundle’s voice pitches itself over the cacophony. The song is the album’s definitive statement, swooping and soaring like a sermon. “The bells tolled so long, the birds all moved on, to the next town’s trees.” It’s another spiritual peak, non-linear and stunning. It’s as experimental as Jesse Blake Rundle has ever ventured, but it might also become his calling card.

“This is a song, and even an album, for the deconstructionists, questioning their evangelical upbringing or whatever constraints they feel they need to leave behind.” Rundle says, “I’ve come to my own answers about faith and I’m trying to tell my story of what I’ve found on the other side.”

With seven songs done, the album is almost complete. But before closing, Rundle offers a protest song in the aftermath of January 6, 2021. “I’d spent years living around the capitol complex in DC - skateboarding down the hill with friends, biking, and just walking through the grounds while catching up with distant friends on the phone. It was tragic to see it turn into a place of violence. I wrote this song out of my despair and anger at that scene.” Like elsewhere, lush arrangements replicate a devotional religious aura: “The stones wouldn’t break, the stones wouldn’t shake, the stones just stayed right in there place.” Another brass section begins to blare, and we leave the album in a moment of stunned reverie, drifting in contemplation of humanity’s better nature.

‘Next Town’s Trees’ offers variety and vulnerability across its 8 tracks, but more importantly, each moment depends on another and has been perfectly sequenced across a sonic arc. A front-to-back listen reveals new layers, circling just beneath what you thought you knew but could only guess at. In short, the whole is greater than the sum of its parts, and with ‘Next Town’s Trees’s release, Jesse Blake Rundle has found his voice.

credits

releases March 1, 2023

All songs written by Jesse Blake Rundle
Produced by Jesse Blake Rundle
Engineered by Nate Agenbroad
Recorded at Mixed Metaphor Studios in Boise, Idaho
Mixed by KT Pipal
Mastered by Maria Triana
Cover artwork by Tyson Gough
Vinyl layout and design by Jesse Blake Rundle

Jesse Blake Rundle
All performances, drum programming, and arrangements unless otherwise noted

Nate Agenbroad
Live drums on Tracks 1, 2, & 7
Harmonies on Tracks 1, 2, & 7
Bass on Track 2

Jonny Enright
Trombones on Tracks 1, 3, & 8

Yoed Nir
Strings performance on Track 5
Cello & string arrangement on Track 5
Recorded at Yoed Nir's Studios

THANK YOU
Lizzy Ellison and the whole Doe Records songwriting class (Dolan Leckliter, Gretchen Klempa, Antony Abrahams, Derrick Brown, Shannon Netemeyer, Jose Velazco, Rachel Rufrano, Emily Logan, Chelsea Rose. I couldn’t have made this without you all). Most of these songs came together during our class and each one of you inspired me to keep going, to chase new ideas, and to feel confident in my own voice.
Nate Agenbroad, for your friendship and willingness to chase ideas with me and bring all your engineering knowledge to create the sounds I imagine.
The Mond-A-Sides crew (Owen, John, Amber, Nico, Audrey, Emily, and many more) for keeping me sane during the pandemic, and sharing the love of art and music.
Tyson Gough for your friendship and the lovely album art.
Jonny Enright, for your incredible horn arrangements that add so much dimension to these songs
Yoed Nir, for bringing my rudimentary string ideas to life on Yes, I’m Angry, and for the incredibly moving performances.
To the Mixed Metaphor songwriting circle and all the Boise music community (Dale, Nate N, Mike, Dave, Chuck, Brad, Kelsi, Jan, Dusty, Michael, Kristi, Jens, Shaun, and so many more) - I love making music with this community.
Treefort Music Fest, for putting Boise on the map and giving local bands a shot at a big stage.
Lower Gentry Studios for your friendship and collaboration on so many projects - can’t wait to see what’s next.
Mike Harris, Dave Kelly, Amy Fosha, Sumar Alsemeiry, Logan Lynn, Chris Gutierrez, Amos Rothstein, David Burchfield, Paul Mitchell, and so many more.
To everyone who listened to my last record, I thank you, sincerely. I grew so much through putting out that album and learned to find my authentic voice by sharing music with you all.