Everyone knows that breakups can be painful not only for the couple involved, but for everyone in their orbit\u2014family, friends, pets, whomever. In one verse of the country-folk ballad \u201cThe Farm,\u201d among the better of the many breakup songs on Haim\u2019s cheekily titled new album, I Quit, the singer\u2019s mother tells her the family just wants to see her smile again. In the next, her sister offers to let her move in, \u201cif you need a place to calm down.\u201d That\u2019s especially touching if you\u2019re aware that the singer\u2019s sisters are also the other members of the band; recent interviews<\/a> tell us they did move in together in a rough patch not long ago.<\/p>\n This album returns again and again to lingering issues and doubts about the romantic split the band\u2019s lead singer and songwriter Danielle Haim has gone through since the Los Angeles trio\u2019s last album, 2020\u2019s Women in Music Pt. III, which was nominated for the Grammy for Album of the Year. But for listeners, a further unspoken question remains, because that ex-partner happened to be Ariel Rechtshaid, who also produced all three of Haim\u2019s previous albums. In the aftermath, it\u2019s been difficult not to wonder who would end up with custody of their distinctive sound.<\/p>\n The immediate answer has to be the Haim sisters, of course: Their style is first of all a product of Danielle, Este, and Alana\u2019s unique chemistry, shared humor, and work ethic; of their sibling harmonies; of their childhood in the family hobby band Rockinhaim, learning their instruments and their classic-rock tunes at parents Mordechai and Donna\u2019s knees; and of the place they\u2019ve taken as a trio of wild-child guardians of the spirit of the San Fernando Valley, in a City of Angels that\u2019s had more than its share of hardships in 2025. This album comes partly out of a period where they all found themselves single simultaneously for the first time in many years, which led to a little acting out and a lot of reaffirming of bonds.<\/p>\n On I Quit, then, they still have that otherworldly vocal blend. They still marry 1970s album rock with 1980s pop, 1990s girl-group R&B, and countless other knowing references. And they still have those moments that feel like spontaneous group levitation. But they do seem to come less often. There are some songs that don\u2019t seem like they would have passed muster on earlier Haim albums like WiMP3 (as fans style it) or on their 2013 debut Days Are Gone, one of the great pop albums of the 2010s. And even the stronger songs don\u2019t always achieve escape velocity. Whether that\u2019s due to Rechtshaid\u2019s absence or because of a mood Haim is aiming for this time, maybe more grit and less dazzle, I can\u2019t say for sure. Production was handled by Danielle along with Rostam<\/a> (aka Rostam Batmanglij), the former Vampire Weekend member who\u2019s also been part of their circle for years and played a key role on WiMP3.<\/p>\n Part of the problem is that when some of us think of Haim, we think immediately of \u201cThe Wire<\/a>,\u201d \u201cWant You Back<\/a>,\u201d and \u201cThe Steps<\/a>\u201d\u2014songs that leap up, grab you by the shoulders, and spin you deliriously \u2019round your kitchen, the block, your town, the world. Not all Haim songs are like that, and never were. But it\u2019s a craving not quite satisfied on I Quit. (Surely the title doesn\u2019t mean we quit making bangers, does it?)<\/p>\n I\u2019ve never been fully won over by the lead single \u201cRelationships<\/a>,\u201d for instance, which first appeared in March. It\u2019s a fine idea, a song that believes in love but thumbs its nose at the psychological rigmarole of coupledom. Better yet, it manages to find half a dozen funny slant rhymes for the word \u201crelationship\u201d\u2014\u201cescape from it,\u201d \u201ccommunicatin\u2019 it,\u201d \u201cthe way it is,\u201d \u201cthe shit our parents did\u201d \u2026 but like several other songs here, it feels kind of static structurally. Elements seem to circle back on themselves rather than build\u2014fittingly for the theme, in fact, but not the makings of a transcendent anthem. Not for the last time here, it\u2019s as if the song\u2019s preoccupation with its governing idea tends to weigh it down.<\/p>\n Still, if \u201cRelationships\u201d were the weakest it got, I Quit would be an overall triumph. And for most of its first half, that\u2019s what the record pretty much is. It has a great album-opening line on \u201cGone,\u201d where Danielle sings, \u201cCan I have your attention please\/ For the last time before I leave.\u201d I kept wondering what it reminded me of, until I realized it was \u201cPlease allow me to introduce myself \u2026\u201d in \u201cSympathy for the Devil.\u201d I don\u2019t think that\u2019s altogether an accident, given a guitar solo that feels like a kissing cousin to Keith Richards\u2019 famous solo there<\/a>, and a similar kind of drum-circle call-and-response climax near the end. It\u2019s a fine way to set oneself up as an unreliable narrator.<\/p>\n The unfortunate distraction there is the use of a sample from George Michael\u2019s \u201cFreedom! \u201990\u201d in the chorus. The problem isn\u2019t the potential cheese factor; pulling that kind of move off is a Haim specialty. But it comes too early in the song, like a punchline that interrupts its own setup. By that point we haven\u2019t even heard the other two sisters\u2019 voices yet. But \u201cGone\u201d is still an effective start, introducing the record\u2019s themes of heartbreak and independence, while reassuring that it won\u2019t take itself too seriously (a promise made to be broken).<\/p>\n In \u201cAll Over Me,\u201d a smart, lusty celebration of nonmonogamy, as in all of the best Haim songs, there are multiple sounds to listen to at any given moment, and they\u2019re not usually the same sounds as 30 seconds ago\u2014from the background twang of a sitar to heavy cascades of electric guitar while Danielle specifies what positions, both sexual and social, she\u2019d prefer her paramour to assume next.<\/p>\n In the best of all the breakup songs here, \u201cDown to Be Wrong,\u201d downbeat, smoky verses detail the process of walking away, but then the choruses leap up an octave with a bright California-rock \u201coooh!\u201d as Danielle declares that \u201cthis time\u201d she\u2019s not going to change her mind. Haim is known for striding purposefully through L.A. streets in their videos, and this song ends with Danielle asserting that \u201cmy feet are on the ground and I keep walking,\u201d even as the swelling and ebbing background vocals make it feel as if she\u2019s traversing a swaying rope bridge.<\/p>\n Whatever she claims, though, she\u2019s going to revisit this thought process over and over in the later phases of the album. And more than any production or arrangement choices, that\u2019s its real flaw. Breakup albums make up a grand tradition, but they need to approach their subject from varied and unpredictable angles. On I Quit, too often instead we get therapy-speak tones that summon the worst L.A. wheatgrass-smoothie clich\u00e9s. Although they range across musical styles, songs like \u201cLove You Right,\u201d \u201cMillion Years,\u201d \u201cTry to Feel My Pain,\u201d \u201cCry,\u201d \u201cBlood on the Street,\u201d and closer \u201cNow It\u2019s Time\u201d all have sections where it feels like the listener is caught in the middle of someone else\u2019s endless post-breakup argument. We\u2019ve all had those kinds of obsessive bargaining sessions in real life and in our own heads, and they\u2019re tedious even when they\u2019re happening to you, let alone when someone else reproduces them to a beat. Some line edits would have helped, but they also should have dropped a few of these 15 songs altogether, to give the rest a fighting chance.<\/p>\n Thankfully some songs avoid this trap. The title of \u201cTake Me Back<\/a>\u201d might sound like more relationship drama, but it\u2019s actually about wanting to revisit times gone by\u2014though, given some of the goings-on in the backs of trucks and the front seats of cars in the antics recounted here, not necessarily more innocent times. These ribaldries roll out over strummed acoustic guitar in a rapid recitation that seems to remind every listener of a different touchstone\u2014I\u2019ve heard a few people refer to Jim Carroll\u2019s strung-out classic \u201cPeople Who Died<\/a>,\u201d as both fire off a series of given names (Carroll had a Bobby while Haim has a Billy, though the latter presumably survived his \u201cbad GPA\u201d and being unable to \u201cget it up\u201d). It really has more in common with strummy speak-singing slacker numbers from 1990s alt-rock, a subgenre including Beck, Primitive Radio Gods, Shawn Mullins, Soul Coughing, early Modest Mouse, and OMC\u2019s \u201cHow Bizarre<\/a>.\u201d Given that it\u2019s Haim, you definitely also have to square that with Sheryl Crow\u2019s \u201cAll I Wanna Do<\/a>.\u201d Whatever the case, this self-aware indulgence in millennial nostalgia yields real pleasure.<\/p>\n The sweet love tune \u201cLucky Stars,\u201d meanwhile, brings a surprising swerve into a neo-shoegaze wall of hazy guitar feedback. And \u201cSpinning\u201d offers a nu-disco workout \u00e0 la Robyn or Dua Lipa, with lead vocals taken over by Alana Haim (who since the previous album has branched out into acting, with a starring role in band BFF Paul Thomas Anderson\u2019s Licorice Pizza<\/a>). It took a few listens to adapt to her breathier tone\u2014and maybe more could have been done sooner with the other sisters\u2019 supporting lines, to weave that old Haim magic\u2014but ultimately it\u2019s a refreshing change.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Read More<\/b>\n <\/p>\n <\/a><\/p>\n There are several more highlights even among the tracks that are still stuck in Splitsville. I\u2019ve come around strongly to \u201cEverybody\u2019s Trying to Figure Me Out,\u201d a kind of centerpiece to the album that goes deeper into the introspective mood and breaks on through to the other side. It mixes classic sparse, shouty Haim stylings with passages of staccato electronic rhythms, as Danielle works through \u201cthings I\u2019ve done I can\u2019t deny,\u201d buys a fresh pack of smokes, and dreams herself up a time machine. Perhaps that device is what makes the whole band slow its tempo woozily at the 2-minute-and-50-second mark, as the song transitions into this useful, repeated message to the brokenhearted: \u201cYou think you\u2019re gonna die, but you\u2019re not gonna die,\u201d over martial drum fills. I\u2019m reminded of recent L.A. transplant Lucy Dacus\u2019 lines on her song \u201cBest Guess\u201d<\/a> this year: \u201cIf this doesn\u2019t work out, I\u2019ll lose my mind\/ And after a while, I\u2019ll be fine.\u201d It\u2019s at once the most comforting and saddest truth of a failed romance. On the other hand, I have no idea what Danielle means when she sings here, \u201cRenters\u2019 rights, squatters\u2019 rights\/ I\u2019ll be the gatekeeper for the rest of my life\u201d\u2014but I still want to yell along with it.<\/p>\n One of the Funniest Documentaries of the Year Is Streaming for Free on YouTube Stephen Colbert\u2019s Emmy Win Signaled Something Bigger It\u2019s a Regular Romance Series\u2014With One Big Twist. Why Won\u2019t Anyone Shut Up About It? The Emmys Tried a Controversial New Approach This Year. I Kind of Loved It. And no matter what else is going on, most of the songs can boast what I think of as \u201cHaim moments.\u201d Like the clatter of asymmetrical breakbeat drums that come in on \u201cMillion Years\u201d to unsettle the atmosphere just as Danielle sings, \u201cAnd I know love finds a way to take a toll on you,\u201d or the three-way counterpoint vocals that bubble up at the end of that song. In \u201cTry to Feel My Pain,\u201d it\u2019s the moment after Danielle sings the subliminally Bob Dylan\u2013quoting line, \u201cHow does it feel to be on your own, and be anyone you want?\u201d when she takes in an audible sharp breath as if to steel herself to leap into that complete unknown. And back on \u201cThe Farm,\u201d there\u2019s the point at 2:40 when the song\u2019s internal debate has been settled (\u201cSo we can give up trying\/ And you can keep the farm\/ Just buy me out\u201d), and an unexpected, Neil Young\u2013style harmonica line comes wheezing in to underline the resolution.<\/p>\n Some fans, of course, will be ready to roll with each self-care-centric syllable here, and feel that every song takes them airborne. For others, I Quit may need to grow on them. Either way, I don\u2019t think there\u2019s cause to fret that Rechtshaid took Haim\u2019s mojo away with him. More likely, this album will come to seem like a transitional step in the assuredly long musical life of Haim. If they go right and you go left, you know you\u2019ll meet back up again, because they\u2019ve been taking the steps.<\/span><\/p>\n ![\"\"](\"https:\/\/compote.slate.com\/images\/ae944719-675d-4a91-8362-d7aaa1f8a16b.jpeg?crop=1560%2C1040%2Cx0%2Cy0&width=140\")
\n <\/div>\nCarl Wilson<\/h4>\n
Bruce Springsteen\u2019s Lost Albums Are Here. They Reveal a Side of the Boss He Was Too Afraid to Show.<\/h3>\n
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