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Cover of Halfway Home

Album · 2019

Halfway Home

by Zuri Bell

A quieter album of grandparents, harbours, night shifts and new cities, with the pop turned tender.

Tracks

  1. 1. Evening Lights, Halfway HomeThe sandals slap, the sky turns peach, and for once I am in no hurry. It is the smoothest groove I have written.smooth afrobeats, evening highlife2:34
  2. 2. My Grandfather's GuitarA dusty case, brass clasps, and a song I have never finished playing. It is about my grandfather, and I cried on the last take.nostalgic pop, acoustic pop2:27
  3. 3. Hand on the RailI wrote this standing at a harbour wall, watching the boats. The hope in it is quiet but real.harbour pop, hopeful pop2:43
  4. 4. Mended Nets, Steady HandsMy grandmother has been up before the sun my whole life. Needle, thread, tea: that is the whole song.tender pop, folk-pop2:24
  5. 5. New City, Same SunBoxes stacked high and a key in an unfamiliar lock. The sun followed me, which was the best surprise.wistful pop, hopeful pop3:06
  6. 6. Tuesday Farmers' Market HumA bright little farmers' market hum, which was my way of making a new city feel like home.cosy pop, market pop2:57
  7. 7. Night Shift, Morning LightI wrote this for my cousin the nurse, coming off a twelve-hour shift. The dawn is the chorus.tender pop, dawn pop2:50
  8. 8. The Guitar Waits for MeMy own guitar was gathering dust, so I wrote it a letter. It is hushed, and I recorded it late at night.hushed pop, bedroom pop3:01
  9. 9. Borrowed Jacket, Night Bus HomeAmber lights, a fogged window and a borrowed jacket. The city has never looked so soft.dreamy pop, night-bus pop3:04
  10. 10. The Fishing Rod Is PackedMy father's last day at work, and the first of his fishing days. I can still see his hat by the door.warm pop, nostalgic pop2:49
  11. 11. Fog Lifts at SevenFog so thick you cannot see the corner, and somehow that is calming. The dance-pop beat arrives like sunrise.dreamy dance-pop, 2000s pop3:23

Liner notes

I moved cities for a while and the songs followed me, softer and slower than before. I wrote about my grandfather's guitar, my grandmother's mended nets and a night bus home in somebody's borrowed jacket. There are fewer shouts on this one and more whispers, but the choir is still in the back of every chorus. It is the record I play when I miss people.

Zuri Bell