displacement and identity in amy jay’s latest single, “can’t go back”

displacement and identity in amy jay’s latest single, “can’t go back”

Amy Jay‘s latest single, “Can’t Go Back” is a indie pop track that delves into displacement, detachment and loneliness in a place that you think of as your home. Amy Jay is a self described “alt folk indie singer songwriter” who is currently based in New York City. “Can’t Go Back” is the first single off of Jay’s upcoming album, Mnemonics, out November 7th.

“Can’t Go Back” is the perfect song for soul searchers, introspectives, and who has ever felt out of place or invisible. Amy Jay’s inspiration—feeling lost in New York City—is a universal concept even if you don’t have millions of people on your doorstep. Community is a hard thing to find, and Jay delves into that struggle deeply on “Can’t Go Back.”

The track begins with immersive bass beats with deeply personal direct lyrics targeted to a former friend/lover. She reminsces on what once was, and their final dinner, mentioning the isolation that followed. Her soft vocals are intimate and reflective of the songs sensitive nature.

The tracks shining star is it’s lyrics. When Amy Jay writes, “I can’t tell if it’s New York, or if I’ve grown up, or if I’ve grown up in New York”, she speaks to the dismantling of identity and placement, and the way we become misaligned with our home and self.

As she writes that the city is “shaping her”, she is discussing all the change you go through during youth and how malleable your identity becomes. It’s so easy to lose yourself in new environments and experiences, and forget where you even began, which is exactly what Jay seeks to discover. Describes Jay of the inspiration here, “Remember that change is inevitable and sometimes permanent.” She goes on to explain:

Although I wrote this song before COVID, it’s eerily pertinent to how the pandemic drastically impacted our lives. Despite living in the same city long enough to call it home, I question if my sense of displacement comes from New York’s inherent transience or the broader challenges of adulthood. Even before COVID but especially since, many loved ones moved away and my community is constantly shifting, so it often feels impossible to establish lasting roots in such an ever-changing environment. Like experiencing a death, the only way to move forward is to grieve the change and accept the new reality.

The lyrics are enrobed in Jay’s echoey vocals, and the nostalgic reverb that makes the song feel simultaneously distant and extremely close to home, which is exactly the contrast that exists within the narrative of displacement and discovery.

The steady and relatively chill beat and instrumentals are at odds with the anxiety and mourning of loss time and identity within the song, and the tension works amazingly. Jay is up to quietly mourn who we once were alongside her, as the song allows the listener to reflect on their own irreversible moments and lost memories/experiences.

The repetition of the lyrics “We can’t go back” is both disarming and comforting, as it reflects both the uneasiness towards the passage of time, as well as the acceptance of it. “Can’t Go Back” is the soundtrack for travelers, hermits, college students, and pretty much anyone that has felt instability or loss of identity, and Amy Jay packages it skillfully and wonderfully through her velvety vocals and confessional lyrics. If you don’t already relate, unfortunately, someday you will!

Follow Amy Jay on tour here. Pre-save the single here.

amy jay releases enchanting, nostalgic new earworm “lucid dreaming” that will have you lost in thought on your next commute

amy jay releases enchanting, nostalgic new earworm “lucid dreaming” that will have you lost in thought on your next commute

Indie folk artist Amy Jay continues to impress, carving out delicate landscapes and memories as her story unfolds in front of us all. 2 EPs and an array of singles in, we have grown quite attached to her sound. Jay’s new track “Lucid Dreaming” gives us a taste of what’s to come with her first full-length release, due out next month.

We’ve not been as impressed with a lyricist in a moment and are absolutely thrilled by the specificity that the end of each breathless line brings with it. Jay’s whisper of a voice seems to trace shadows across our skin, while we fall into the comfort of her sweet melody. Lines like “sunscreen and cigarettes/smells like childhood birthdays” give you just a hint of nostalgia attached to the simplicities of early years and seemingly unimportant memories. Explains Jay of the track:

I somehow ended up in the front subway car on the A express train zooming down Manhattan on my way to work, and was mesmerized by the prisms that were forming out of the double-paned window of the train door. As I was in some sort of hypnotic, half asleep, morning commute state, I also picked up the smells of sunscreen and cigarettes, which was probably someone on their way to the beach. But it brought me straight back to a specific, vivid just-like-yesterday memory of a childhood pool party in Miami Lakes where I grew up. Contrasting that past memory with the current state of my mind asking, ‘Am I really an adult?’ and, ‘What is truth, does it even exist?’ is what brought me to write this song. It was a strange train ride.

Sure, the idea of lucid dreaming is a magical concept; having the ability to be aware and make decisions within your dreams can make it feel like two realities exist. Daydreaming, night dreaming, lucid dreaming… what a comforting and strange thing to consider. (And no, we have never identified with a line more than with “nothing’s making sense, nothing’s making sense.”)

Awake Sleeper is out February 11. Keep up with Amy Jay here.