Review Summary: Leave me alone, I'm dying.
Although I’m certain Christopher Owens wouldn’t want every review for his first solo album in nine years to turn into a pity party, or an exposé on his personal life, it’s pretty clear that the man has had a rough few years. Death, heartbreak, homelessness, addiction—you name it, Owens has been through it, and that’s not even mentioning his upbringing in a religious cult that was rife with allegations of abuse. However,
I Wanna Run Barefoot Through Your Hair is pretty clear in its intent to lay it all out on the table, in all honesty. “No Good” immediately sets the tone for the album as Owens sings his opening lines;
“No not another love song, not one more song where I’m pretending everything will be okay”. It’s no surprise that some of the most interesting people aren’t necessarily the happiest.
I Wanna Run Barefoot Through Your Hair is a pretty big moment for Christopher Owens. He’s back on his old label again, and working with his old producer Doug Boehm, who played a big role in making Girls’ sophomore album
Father, Son, Holy Ghost such a smashing success. The ball is in Owens’ court for the first time in a while, and he’s been teed up for a good shot at redemption after a string of solo albums that were misunderstood at best. So without further ado, I’m happy to report that Owens did not fumble the bag at all.
Anyone who has been out of the loop since the Girls era will probably notice a distinct shift in tone here. To put it bluntly, the guy just sounds tired, and rightfully so. As I mentioned, life hasn’t been too kind to Owens, and it really shows in his voice. The thing that makes this album so impactful though, is the contrast between Owens’ downtrodden heart, and his band, which sounds more invigorated and full of life than ever. They keep things as loose and breezy as the Californian surf in July, but they are undeniably locked in, shifting like a current from a creek of intimate jangles to a roaring river of organs and fuzz damaged cry baby guitar solos. It’s the kind of backing band that Owens deserves after struggling to lock things down for so long, and it’s really beautiful to see.
The band rocks out with the kind of veteran chemistry that just feels natural and matured, so when they do lock into a groove, you bet your ass they are gonna linger on it for a while. There are some long jams on this album, but they stay engaging as we listen to Owens ponder about life, death, and Heaven, almost as if he is journaling in the studio. At six minutes, “I Think About Heaven” is still only the third longest song on the album, but the dreamy electric guitars combined with djembe percussion and Owens’ acoustic strumming creates a hypnotizing warmth that I could stay swaddled in forever. Even as a non-believer, I can admit that there is something pure and beautiful about the idea of our passed loved ones waiting for us beyond the clouds, and when Owens sings
“my soul cries out for the one I love”, and smiles at the thought of Heaven, I know exactly the type of comfort he is seeking. I think we all seek it in one way or another.
While the rest of the album struggles to keep up with the incredible poignancy of the first three tracks, there are still some pretty strong highlights to be found. “I Know” picks things back up with a sun kissed dream pop tune that ends in a crescendo jam of harmonica and organ that sends the song absolutely flying off the runway. “This Is My Guitar” finds Owens reflecting on his talent, fully acknowledging the chance he has been given to shine some light back into the world all while crying out for help himself, and the backing gospel vocals on “Distant Drummer” and closer “Do You Need A Friend” gives us the sense that despite all of his pain, Owens is doing his best to move forward and surrender control to a higher power. Easier said than done though, as Owens' last words on the album repeat like a mantra for the terminally depressed;
“If you really wanna know, I’m barely making it through the day”.
Despite the slight lack of consistency in the back end of the record, it feels impossible to not celebrate
I Wanna Run Barefoot Through Your Hair with a full heart. It’s a humbling testimony to perseverance when all you want to do is quit, but more so, it’s about making peace with the fact that you’ve been knocked down, and asking for help to make that first step up. Hang in there buddy, we’re rooting for you.
