Essex, Honey, You Can Never Go Back
by Jenny Sequoia, Contributor
A little over a month or so ago, Devonté Hynes released his fifth studio album under the moniker of Blood Orange. The album, entitled Essex Honey, slipped into the cultural bloodstream without much media attention—partially due to the unfortunate fact that the LP was released on the same day as Sabrina Carpenter’s highly anticipated (and highly controversial) Man’s Best Friend. For the vast majority of albums, that would result in immediate relegation to the inglorious, fleshy folds of culture. While it could gain a cult following a few years after the fact, more often than not it would fade into the apathetic void-currents; doomed to a fate of being the subject of one or two “Noun: A Retrospective” or “The Adjective Noun of Noun” YouTube videos. However, in a truly delectable twist, the subdued reaction to Essex Honey is thematically relevant to its central commentary and meditations on the concept of a Home; an affair as exciting as it is rare.
It’s not often that work in the temporal medium of music is so thoroughly strengthened by similarly temporal aspects of pop culture, especially given their polar opposite trajectories. Essex Honey develops slowly and elaborately, frequently interrupting its grooves with meditative synths or ethereal cello sections—deliberate choices that practically beg for comparison against the blistering speed at which pop culture moves, where trends die quicker than most can comprehend them. This culture disorients us, diverting our attention from our base emotional responses to something faster and more satisfying. It’s undeniable that a burdensome, Falstaffian hedonism has been injected into the foundations of our Western minds.
But what are you left with when this well inevitably dries up? What remains when you’re at the end of one trail with no signs pointing to an exit? What, deep down, is really inside of you? To answer these questions, Hynes attempts to return home—only to find that the veil of childhood has been lifted for good.
Essex Honey thrives in the in-betweens, the grey areas, and the subliminal. A contemplative tone is achieved through deep sonic palletes, with drum patterns and instrumental choices that echo Hynes’ relaxed 2011 album Coastal Grooves, infusing already sublime synths with depth and reverb straight out of 2018’s meditative Negro Swan. There’s an undeniable weight to the mix that matches that of the lyrics, which grapple with the loss of innocence in moments of severe desperation. In the first track, “Look At You”, Hynes asks, “How can I start my day/Knowing the truth/About love and loss of youth,” before attempting to cope to no avail. He laments in “Somewhere in Between” with the desperate line, “I just want to see again.” He attempts to run away in “Vivid Light,” but remarks that “the more you hide/The smaller you are.” Upon eventually facing his growing inner turmoil, Hynes discovers that “Life is something you find hiding in your home,” before finally asserting that “I can go,” having gained newfound emotional resolve.
Aging is arguably more a curse than a blessing. As we grow old and gain responsibilities, we are almost forced to yearn for simpler times that, really, never existed. When the burden of consciousness begins to weigh a little too heavy, we become desperate for any sense of comfortability, comfortability that “Home” can never provide. Over time, the places we inhabit deteriorate, as our comfortable touchstones become into uncharted territory. As you return bloodied and bruised from Mount Doom, you find your Shire sacked, burned, and as denuded as your mind.
It is at this moment that you realize that not only could your home forget who you are, but perhaps it never recognized you as who you truly are, or even as a denizen in the first place. You begin to understand that Essex is just a modifier, and Honey is the subject. And as the numb indifference of your surroundings closes in, you realize you’re alone; treading water in the open ocean.
What Hynes ultimately hopes to convey within Essex Honey is the way that aimlessness can easily be redefined as conviction. Our homes exist in our minds more as Boltzmann Brains—emotions that materialize and dissolve at a glance—more than consistent foundations of our psyche. You can choose to let that instability define you, or you could choose to identify the apagogical baselessness as it is. You could revel in the fact that your Shire is destroyed, or you could choose to focus on the friends, experiences, and epiphanies you made along your journey. You may be inclined to fall, crumble, and relapse; but that's no way to live.
So goes the message of Essex Honey. Internal salvation is achievable only through one’s own emotional intelligence, and your personal diegesis is just that; yours. Soon, it will just be second nature. Eventually, you won’t even think to look back.
