HAIM DITCHES OVERTHINKING ON NEWEST MUSICAL OFFERING “I QUIT”
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I Quit is one of the most self-assured, creatively liberated pop records to come out this year, and it doesn’t need to shove a big sign in your face to prove its point (except for its album cover). What makes HAIM’s fourth album stand out isn’t just its sonic experimentation or lyrical growth, but instead how deliberately unbothered it is. The trio has always excelled at writing about the messiness of modern romance, but here, they no longer sound like they’re trying to make peace with it. They’re opting out altogether, and they’re not asking for anyone’s approval.
At a time when many pop acts are still chasing their version of a concept album, HAIM’s concept is refreshingly simple: emotional clarity. The band sounds like they’ve finally stepped away from the narrative expectations that surrounded them, especially after years of working with a consistent collaborator like Ariel Rechtshaid. That shift is especially felt in the production, which feels looser and more varied than on past albums. Rostam and Buddy Ross bring a new dynamic to the studio, less polished and more instinctual. The result is a sound that gives the sisters space to let their songwriting speak for itself.
“Million Years” is the most emotionally resonant moment on the album. Instead of focusing on a specific breakup, it leans into the ache of an unresolved connection. “I know I’ll find you there, even if it takes a million years,” HAIM sings, cycling through memory and time, trying to make sense of something that slipped through her fingers. To me, it resembles somebody who hasn’t fully let go and maybe never will. The production is sparse but immersive, cutting through the emotional static with precise, enhancing almost filmic imagery. “Cut down Ventura Boulevard, trying to get nowhere, getting lost” immediately calls up a visual and emotional state that’s easy to recognize: disorientation disguised as routine. The second verse almost felt like a direct call out toward my inner saboteur, “I’m not sure I’m meant to love, ’cause when I try to love someone, I could never find a way to also love myself.”
“Relationships,” meanwhile, is a sharp contrast in tone but just as effective. It’s the album’s most immediate track, catchy, punchy, and deceptively light. But beneath its pop structure is a pointed commentary on the exhaustion that comes with dating in the modern world. “Baby, how can I explain, when an innocent mistake turns into seventeen days? Fuckin’ relationships,” HAIM sings, alternating between sarcasm and sincerity. The song has a clarity that doesn’t need over-explaining, capturing the repetitive nature of conflict, and an impulse to laugh through the frustration. “Relationships reframes I Quit as a decision rooted in survival rather than defeat.
For me, these two tracks frame the emotional stakes of the album: the tension between choosing yourself and still carrying everything you left behind. One speaks to longing that won’t quite die; the other to the anger that builds when you try to pretend like you’ve closed a door.
“Down to Be Wrong” and “Everybody’s Trying to Figure Me Out” feel like they’re chasing past HAIM structures, but still feel outweighed by the album’s confidence in taking risks. “The Farm” leans into country-pop successfully well, and “Cry” allows each sister to take the lead in a way that feels earned and communal. “Spinning” takes full control of the wheel with its glossy synths and dancefloor pacing, giving Alana a chance to step into the spotlight with the same sense of ease Danielle has always carried.
There’s a lot of talk in pop music about growth. Often, that means a change in aesthetic or production style. But with HAIM, growth here means restraint, letting lyrics sit without overproducing them. Allowing emotional throughlines to exist without packaging them into narratives. Choosing discomfort instead of pretending things are fine. I Quit is the result of that choice, and while it’s not always polished or tidy, it is their most human record.
If you've ever walked away from something while still wondering if you made the right choice, this album will feel familiar. It captures the way decisions stick with us, even when they’re the right ones. In doing so, it earns its place as one of the most necessary and relevant pop records of the year.
