Jesse H Davis - It's hard to get out of the world

​Jesse H Davis

It's hard to get out of the world
self-released; 2025

By Jamie Funk
​

Jesse H Davis’s It’s Hard to Get Out of the World feels less like an album and more like a quiet confession whispered through the walls. Made entirely on his own in Pueblo, Colorado, the record is steeped in solitude and shaped by grief, using a TASCAM recorder, a telephone receiver mic, and bare bones instrumentation to channel the kind of vulnerability that rarely makes it past the demo stage. I could hear the tape hiss, the uneven levels, the reverb that washes everything into a kind of dreamy fog. But none of that distracted from the core of it. If anything, it made the intimacy feel sharper. This is music that’s not trying to impress you. It just wants to be heard.

“selfish” opens with simple strummed guitar and vocals that feel like they’re being sung from across a room. Then out of nowhere comes a guitar solo that practically swallows the mix, an emotional outburst that does not apologize for taking up space. The vocal melody stuck with me, especially when Davis sings, “outside dancing girls are important they carry love around. I see them pollinating the sidewalk slowing me down, running home, taking off your disguise alone, what a happy surprise I hope there's nothing left to find.” It’s a strange and beautiful line, one of many moments that feel more overheard than written.

“which way to the beach” drifts in like a fog bank. The guitar is soaked in reverb and the vocal sounds emotionally withdrawn, like the effort to sing is almost too much. There’s a hollowness to it, a sadness that does not push itself forward but stays just beneath the surface. “falling back asleep” carries a similar tone, with strong vocals that quietly carry the weight of the track. The closer, “it's hard to get out of the world,” leans heavily into reverb and melancholy, bringing the record to an end that feels more like a surrender than a conclusion.

This is very much a lo-fi bedroom recording, and it makes no attempt to be anything else. The rough edges are part of the language. Davis is not trying to polish anything into clarity. He is letting it exist as it is, unguarded and raw. The songwriting is solid throughout, and I found myself wanting to hear more, not because I think he has reached his peak, but because it feels like he is just beginning to find his voice in the quiet.

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