Sly brass gives way to keys and a slack bass, with a vocal imbued with as much warmth as the ocean on a summer’s day—that, in a sense, describes “Don’t Let It Die” from Ella Haber’s new long player, through blood, like kin. The slow groove is as seductive as any I’ve heard this year—and the same can be said of the album itself. It’s a mesmerizing delight from start to end.
Sometimes I hear a set of songs and just know that the artist behind them will be contributing to the soundtrack of my life for the rest of my days. Such is the case with Haber, a jazzy R&B-flavored singer-songwriter from Sydney who possesses the voice of both an old soul and an old friend. Listening to through blood, like kin is akin to floating in the ocean at dusk, the gentle waves splashing and lapping toward shore before receding to the sea. The current carries us to and fro’, but ultimately into deep waters—and deep thoughts, too. Her voice, in this metaphor, is the lighthouse that guides us back to land.
Haber explains in a press release that the album “pays reverence to the profound and marvelous loves that have fueled and defined my life outside of romantic monogamous partnerships. It is about reveling in the in-between, in the vast interconnected network of kin that holds us all, and in those connections that blur the boundaries we know.” It’s about community, in other words, and the families we forge with the like-minded.
To return to the song that drew me in: “Don’t Let It Die” explores how algorithms and formulas have weakened the sacred connection many of us—artists and fans alike—have with music. She says, “I wrote [it] as a homecoming; a reminder of why I write music, and why I’ve done it for as long as I can remember—to tell my story, to provide a soundtrack for life, and to archive the human experience.” On the fan side of the equation, it delves into how it lifts us up in moments of despair. It also spurs me to contemplate a subject I routinely stumble across on social media: Too many folks think “music discovery” means relying on their streamer of choice to serve up new finds. (When did we get so lazy?!)
“Back of My Eyes” is another cool groove of a tune, this one about a love that has run its course. It’s bittersweet, of course, relishing what they had while wishing him well; hers is a full, but wounded, heart. “Merrickville Pause” is another slow-burner, this one mixing and matching music and momentary pleasures. It unearths treasures that are akin to, as she sings, “stardust sticking to my heart.” The album concludes with the jazzy “Interstice,” which finds her admitting—and I’m joking here—that she’s part feline: “I’m a pendulum in swing from left to right/I’ll kiss and then I’ll bite.” It’s a soulful exploration about matters of the light and night, of wanting more from a fleeting encounter: “Let me invent this love!”
The album is a Bandcamp-only release, which means it’s not—at least as of yet—available on the streamers. Although it’s available on vinyl, I opted for the digital download; the shipping costs from Down Under to the U.S. can be a bit much. It’s well worth the price of admission, however. Highly recommended.

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