Jeff Jakobs - The Milk Barn Sessions

​Jeff Jakobs

The Milk Barn Sessions
​self-released; 2022

3.9 out of 5

By Michael E. Vincent​

Jeff Jakobs doesn’t need adequate plumbing to scratch at the deeper nooks of his soul. He doesn’t even need an up-to-code furnace or a cord of dry wood to operate it. And he certainly doesn’t require a high Airbnb rank when scoping out a recording site for The Milk Barn Sessions. In fact, all that Jakobs does seem to expect when hewing a debut EP is a hot kettle of borscht. Because fewer things in the modern world – or at least, in the pastoral nooks of this particular artist’s mind – stir the juices quite like a punchbowl of beetroot soup.

Titled after the upstate New York outbuilding (with questionable heat) that spawned these tracks, the collection parrots the mindset of ’60s-‘70s folk, further informed by a sprawling winter. Artists such as Bob Dylan, Leonard Cohen and Joni Mitchell are cited as influences. And since Jakobs honed his credibility as a songwriting busker in Manhattan, the associations piece together nicely. Thematically, he covers pandemic-era issues dealing with fear and doubt; hoping to paint a more glass-half-full (or, more appropriately, borscht-half-full) reflection of a harrowing time.

The opening cut, “From All Angles,” leans toward Peter, Paul and Mary with the high vocal register of Passenger. It also features poignant harmonica, which is probably an oxymoron, yet marks the end of each verse to great effect. This is matched by the layering of harmonics toward the close, the latter of which raise the song's emotional IQ. “The Price You Pay For Love” continues in the same vein. A pretty composition, the tune is steeped in slyly humorous lyricism (“Took a walk around the block / Collapsed and traced myself in chalk”), clever metaphor and brilliant turns-of-phrase (“So when I close my eyes tonight / And listen to the neighbors fight / I'll pretend it’s you and me / Thats how I wish that it could be"). It might even qualify  as an old school ‘jump rope rhyme,’ for those pining after 17th century sensibilities.  Either way, Jakobs’ background as a stand-up comic surely propels the wit.

“Life On Hold” pairs guitar with (eventual) trombone. When coupled with a more traditional harmonica sound, the melody sticks like oatmeal; a freely woozy sing-song to status quo and venom, channeling The Magnetic Fields. “Bert’s Blues” is a logical extension to this style, wafting like the product of a drunken troubadour. It could almost be the closing tune at a burlesque show, waddling along as house lights rise to sear retinas.

The final two offerings, “Artificial Light” and “Nighttime Prayer,” trade melodic expanse for campfire comfort. Said differently, these are songs with which to cook beans under an open sky. And that’s completely fine, assuming one can use a flint, magnesium block or jerrycan of gasoline to spark the mood.

​The Milk Barn Sessions taps rustic poetry that “celebrates the healing power of art and creation,” especially in reaction to a cruel virus. It’s an unpolished, occasionally pitchy, nugget; a complement to the damaged siding of the titular barn on the cover. Plus, it goes down familiar and easy. Just like a cauldron of borscht. Or, well, maybe chicken soup.

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