Late album cuts”Let Me Go” and “My Song 5” prowl rather than strut, and it’s in that shift from bouncing to stomping where a touch of ego might inspire more character. This qualm surfaces in their newer tracks, where they hop over the fence to different genres and moods. That should be enough, right? True, but sometimes a little bite goes a long way and often sells the attitude of music that’s greased with it. Despite their hip shades, Wiccan hairstyles, and layers of leather, there isn’t a gripping sense of danger to HAIM instead, it’s feel-good, richly textured, and sharpened music from actual musicians.
Yet, it’s also one of their few weaknesses. How they do it without an air of pretense is one of their charming hallmarks. This explains why they’ll gush over traditional pop a la Destiny’s Child, but then also talk shop about Brazilian percussionists and Bulgarian folk.
As a result, Este absorbed rhythm and percussion at UCLA’s Herb Alpert School of Music, Danielle peaced out on school and hit the road alongside both Julian Casablancas and Jenny Lewis, and Alana took notes from both parties. It helps that their parents - Mordecai and Donna Haim - were inspirational figureheads of melody, musicianship, classic rock, and Americana. On stage, they look like the coolest, sexiest, and most straight up rock ‘n’ roll band since The Runaways or Guns N’ Roses, but on record, they’re a well-manicured iTunes library of influences, a rolodex of trampled-upon LPs adored and obsessed over. Take into consideration each Haim sister’s musical pedigree and it makes sense. An inch past that and the album’s titular track teases influences of Prince and Miami Sound Machine. But, then you scoot on over to “Don’t Save Me”, and all of a sudden you’re listening to Tusk. Casual listens of summer single “The Wire” spark memories of Come on Over-era Shania Twain, the sans-molestation pizzaz of Gary Glitter, and the crunchy mall pop of early Phoenix or pre-LSD MGMT. Their process in creating music reminds me of those Salad Stories, in which some nameless chef frantically opened up his or her fridge and jumbled a bunch of ingredients to tasty results (See: The Caesar). With Days Are Gone, the Haim sisters aren’t awash in mystery, but they’re not exactly forthcoming with: A) what they want to do, or B) who they want to be. It’s their thesis statement, a gateway for fans, critics, and like-minded individuals to dissect their throughline and walk away either learned or confused. Wade of music writers), a debut album is a major crutch for a band’s identity. That’s an arresting facet of their narrative: They’ve become more or less a 21st century household name with nary an album behind them. Yet, only now - basically October, the month of ghouls and goblins - are we able to discuss Days Are Gone, the long-awaited, 11-track debut album that’s been promised, teased, and hyped by Este, Alana, and Danielle during every one of their “Holy shit, that was fucking phenomenal” performances this year.
At this point, they’re grafs in the litany of chapters that make up HAIM’s ensuing storyline. Toss any one of those accomplishments to a young, rising act in America and that’d be more than enough success to celebrate. Those are only the major highlights in between, they’ve done little things like, y’know, performing for UK prime ministers, learning French from Phoenix, and nabbing cover stories with Spin and LA Weekly. In the past nine months alone, the three California sisters have topped BBC’s Sound of 2013 poll, signed to Jay Z’s Roc Nation, trumped a few hundred thousand bands at SXSW, collaborated with Kid Cudi and Major Lazer, toured with Vampire Weekend and Mumford & Sons, appeared on-stage with Primal Scream, won a diverse crew of fans that includes everyone from Katy Perry, to David Letterman, to Angel Haze, and graced the lineup to pretty much every major music festival across the globe. Looking back, HAIM’s fevered success is a little ridiculous.
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