Jaye Jayle's
Evan Patterson pushed the boundaries of his music on
Prisyn, creating the album's desolate electronics with nothing but an iPhone 8 and GarageBand (and the help of collaborator
Ben Chisholm). Though
Don't Let Your Love Life Get You Down is more in keeping with the gritty, rootsy sounds of his earlier work, its message might be
Patterson's most daring statement yet: Heartbreak is devastating, but it doesn't have to define you. Written and recorded in the wake of
Patterson's divorce,
Jaye Jayle's fifth album plays like a loose journal of living with, and through, heartache that's focused on the world around him rather than dwelling in bitterness.
Don't Let Your Love Life Get You Down also sounds like coming back to life after
Prisyn's icy isolation. The full-band interplay generates a heat and depth that are immediately apparent on the redemptive opening track, "Warm Blood and Honey." Along with the earthy imagery of "Black Diamonds and Bad Apples" -- storms, apples, highways -- it's one of many reminders that the blues and gospel are always fundamental to
Jaye Jayle's music, no matter how far
Patterson seems to stray from them. Sometimes, this debt is felt in the album's cathartic mood instead of its literal sound.
Patterson evokes the great pain caused by the loss of a great love with sweeping sounds that are more akin to post-rock than any of his previous work. On "Waiting for the Life," he exorcises his suffering by setting the mantra "stop waiting for that life to return" aloft on buoyant guitar and synth washes; on "The Florist,"
Patterson's meditation on how fleeting love can be attains an echoing grandeur. He complements the album's vivid sound design with songwriting that's just as eloquent on the dusty, sidewinding cautionary tale "That Snake Bite" and "The Party of Redemption," a haunting reflection on what it means to let go that stretches into the ancient past and distant future at the same time. For
Patterson, moving on doesn't mean running away from pain. Instead, he confronts it and expresses it to its fullest, especially on the aching finale, "When We Are Dogs." Sung by an especially wounded-sounding
Bonnie "Prince" Billy and graced by
Patrick Shiroishi's mournful saxophone, it's a wake for a dead love and a wish to live "together separately" that's as relatable as it is powerful. Emotionally and musically,
Don't Let Your Love Life Get You Down is some of
Patterson's heaviest music -- but it's also some of his most satisfying and moving. ~ Heather Phares
![Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness [Clean]](http://prodimage.images-bn.com/pimages/5099997855323_p0_v3_s90x140.jpg "Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness [Clean]")
