What an album. “Time Ain’t Accidental” is Jess Williamson’s fifth full length, and it feels like the kind of album that’s career-defining. She’s taking big swings here with every song and connecting every time. “Time Ain’t Accidental” seems like the kind of album you make when you have a lot of confidence in what you’re doing and you really want to show them this time. Williamson’s songwriting, singing, and lyrics on this album all show the signs of inspiration and emotion giving extra oomph to great technique—a memoir in an album, true and personal. Musically, “Time Ain’t Accidental” is a little like the Plains album that Williamson did with Katie Crutchfield of Waxahatchee: country-tinged, country-adjacent, but with traces of folk, indie rock (maybe in the neighborhood of bands like Bon Iver or My Morning Jacket).
There was an interview when the Plains album came out where Katie Crutchfield mentioned being blown away by Williamson’s songwriting, and it’s easy to see why based on the evidence of this album—like Crutchfield, Williamson has a beautiful voice and a writer’s knack for picking specific, concrete details that carry emotion. There are examples on every song too. On the title track’s chorus, she sings, “I read you Raymond Carver by the pool bar like a lady,” which later morphs into “I’ll read you Raymond Carver by the pool bar/I’m a lady,” as if reading American minimalists out loud was the equivalent of riding sidesaddle or wearing stockings—it’s so good and so memorable and paints an instant picture of this burgeoning relationship. Or “Chasing Spirits,” about Williamson’s break-up with her partner, where she sings later in the song, “I could start a garden with the landlord/something good and simple/and worth staying in town for.” A line that perfectly captures that post-break-up loneliness and desperation that would give rise to a thought like that, the search for direction, something you can pour yourself into. There’s lots like this, but for one more example, I also love this from the last track, “Roads,” “Got a hurricane in my heart for you/hailstorm in my head/tornado blowing through my bones/and there’s flooding up ahead.”
“Hunter” was one of the first songs on the album I connected with—it’s propulsive, Williamson’s voice goes from smoky, low-toned, and whispering to bright, clear, dominant throughout the song, that glassy piano rings out. “Hunter” is about Williamson’s experience’s dating in L.A. after the break-up with her longtime partner, and she sings about these fleeting, short-term encounters, where someone’s in your life for a minute and then gone. The first line of the chorus is such a killer: “I want a mirror, not a piece of glass/we went a hundred down the highway/I been known to move a little fast/I’m a hunter for the real thing/My love is pure as the universe/honest as an ashtray/baby it’s fine, I’da blown your mind/but I guess I’m gonna give you space.” Near the end of the song, a gorgeous pedal steel guitar solo kicks in that carries Williamson toward the resolution: it’s your loss if you’re not with her.
Entertaining, beautiful album, perfect for summer.