Your Heart Breaks -- The Wrack Line
Clyde Petersen, aka Your Heart Breaks, is one of those rare artists who can transmute the full contents of their soul into their art. At the surface, yeah, sure — that’s what every artist is trying to do. But Petersen succeeds: there is so much intention and discipline to every note on The Wrack Line, their latest effort, that we get a sense that we know Petersen and their collaborators. Petersen is a veteran of the anti-folk scenes, and while The Wrack Line channels the whimsy of that movement and its offshoot hipster synth minimalism, Your Heart Breaks’ The Wrack Line is a testament to the genre and the complexity it can carry in a simple frame.
Like many artists, Petersen had plenty of time to take stock of the perpetual motion machine of their life once it was forced to stop. Their solution was to team up with key collaborators, such as Kimya Dawson, R. Ring, Theo Hilton of Nana Grizol, and many others to share in on the confusing, wistful nostalgia of what’s honestly a difficult way to live. Your Heart Breaks’ previous project, Drone Butch Blues, is an astonishing effort to archive queer history and Petersen’s place in it. (Hear me wax poetic about it on the Adobe & Teardrops podcast.) The Wrack Line turns that same impulse towards Petersen’s decades of touring.
Amid Petersen’s wry reflections (“At the Corner of Dude and Party,” “These Old Haunts,” “Mile By Mile”) are somber observations of dying relationships, the spark of new ones, and the steady flame of an enduring love (“Island Maniacs.”) There’s also flights of silliness, like Petersen’s folk punk celebration of the lonely and obsessive weirdos in all of us, Star Trek: The Next Generation‘s own “Wesley Crusher.”
At 19 songs, there’s something for everyone here (though it must be said all 19 are stunners), though there are two that may be of particular interest to Rainbow Readers. “Same Old Story” shares Peterson’s and HIlton’s coming out stories, the barriers they’ve had to push against, and the strength they’ve gained from the experience. The warm-hearted rocker is followed by “Queer Fire,” a sultry embrace of desire and sexuality that channels Pati Smith. Vincent Sagisi’s husky vocals contribute a flame all its own.
Through folk, rock, punk, and synth, Your Heart Breaks takes us on a tour through their own heart. It’s one of wild idealism, tempered by disillusionment and boredom but ever on the search for fun, liberation, and fiercely protective of love.
