Jesse Daniel Edwards is a singer-songwriter and musician I recently learned about when his PR rep reached out to me about his new self-titled album. Upon giving Jesse Daniel Edwards – an exquisite collection of songs sung by Jesse with just a piano accompanying his beautiful voice – a listen, I was instantly enchanted, and eager to share it with my readers.

Born and raised in rural eastern San Diego County in Southern California, where he had no exposure to TV or the internet, Jesse left home at the age of 16 and spent the next few years busking on street corners around the U.S. and abroad. While singing outside of bars on Music Row in Nashville, Tennessee, he got to know the late Al Bunetta, the longtime manager for John Prine, who became Jesse’s mentor. He spent the next few years writing songs and honing his craft by touring and performing full time. In May 2020, he released his beautiful debut single “Secret of You”. Nearly three years would pass until his next release, the album American Dreaming in March 2023, featuring seven tracks with strong Southern rock and rock’n’roll elements.

As if wanting to make up for lost time, he quickly followed three months later with a second album Violensia. With a totally different pop sound and vibe that reminds me of the more flamboyant songs by artists like Billy Joel and Rufus Wainwright (Jesse’s vocals also sound like theirs at times), Violensia is highly entertaining both musically and lyrically. As its title suggests, the album touches on various aspects of violence and twisted relationships with a cheeky sophistication on songs like “Dream Where You Can’t Wake Up”, “Drop Dead and Die”, “Matches & Gasoline” and “Everything Makes You Sick”.

Last October (2024), Jesse dropped his next album Clap Trap Venus, this time featuring 11 outstanding colorful tracks showcasing his continued growth as a songwriter and musician. Through songs titled “Hell Called Earth”, “Occasionally Joy”, “Wrong About God” and “Jesus and Other Drugs”, he examines his faith and emotional well-being in this crazy and uncertain world we’re living in.

Now Jesse returns with his deeply personal and stripped-back self-titled album Jesse Daniel Edwards, released today via Cavity Search Records. Recorded last April (2024) at Memphis Magnetic Recording Co., a space he calls his “favorite tech lab in the galaxy, a butterfly-net-shaped place designed to catch dreams“, the album marks a new chapter in his ever-evolving musical journey. He performed his songs on a Chickering Grand Piano as the only musical instrument, which were then recorded on 2-track tape by recording engineer Scott McEwen. Capturing the raw emotions and vulnerability so beautifully expressed on each song, this pared-down approach contrasts with the more elaborate, rock-driven sounds of Jesse’s previous works.

Many of the tracks on Jesse Daniel Edwards are reworkings of previously-released songs, reflecting particularly meaningful moments and memories Jesse chose to revisit. He explains “Life itself is a process of overwriting information, a moment can feel like forever, and yet a life so short.” Further elaborating on the unique nature of each of his prior albums, he adds “Every one is different, simply because they occur at different junctures in your life.” In a sense, Jesse Daniel Edwards feels like both a culmination and a new beginning, a sort of love letter to the past and a way of re-examining his musical journey over the past 12 years.

The album opens with “I’m So Happy (I Think I Might Cry)“, which was released as the album’s lead single on January 24th. The original version of this song was released in May 2023, and included on Violensia which dropped the following month. The song starts off slowly, with gentle piano keys and Jesse’s tender croons, but gradually builds as his piano playing becomes more intense, his vocals rising to an emotional climax at the end. The honest lyrics speak to how popularity, money and material things don’t necessarily equate to a happy existence: “I’ve had so many flings, and been burned by so many flames. And guess what, a twin bed is plenty of space at the end of the day. And the money comes and goes, it’s kinda fun sometimes I suppose, when you forget it’s all just paper. And all the fine things and fancy clothes are just fine things and fancy clothes. Never forget they’re just dust collectors at the end of every day. And the truth is I lied, when I said I was fine. I’m so happy, I think I might cry.”

Listening to the album, what strikes me most is how rich and full each song sounds, despite the fact we’re hearing only a piano and Jesse’s vocals. Employing both instruments – the piano and his vibrant voice – to their fullest, he manages to create breathtaking soundscapes that fully envelop us in their lush and captivating warmth. And though most songs touch on sad or bittersweet topics related to love and loss, they’re always incredibly moving and pleasing to the ear.

On the melancholy but beautiful “This House Comes With A Ghost“, Jesse softly sings with a sense of sad resignation about lost loves and regret that have occured over time within a house: “These walls have seen it all, the stories they could tell. Of broken-hearted love affairs and bittersweet farewells. These walls have seen a lot, a lot more than most. This house comes with a ghost.”

Next up is the aforementioned “Everything Makes You Sick“, another song that was originally released on Violensia. I love Jesse’s dramatic piano trills and raw vocals as he sings “And to every broken heart that came before, I just called to let you know I don’t need you anymore. But I’m gonna be okay, even though everything makes you sick these days.” A third song from that album Jesse revisits here is “Nobody’s Got Me“, a bittersweet song in which he laments about having no one in his life to call his own: “Everyone’s got someone, everyone but me. Nobody’s got me.”

The tender piano ballad “Remember How To Love” has Jesse admitting his shortcomings in keeping up his part of the care and feeding of a romantic relationship: “If I could remember how to love you, maybe you’d remember how to smile. If I could remember how to love you, maybe you’d forget I need reminding once in a while.” On “Wrong About God“, a song that originally appeared on Clap Trap Venus, he plaintively sings from the perspective of a man filled with cynicism and regret resulting from his time serving as a chaplain in the army: “Learning to let go is just unlearning to hold on./ I just wish I could see my friend, and tell him we were wrong. Wrong about the job, and I was wrong about God.”

With “Secret of You“, he revisits the beautiful love song that was his debut single, in which he sings his praises of a loved one whose attributes aren’t immediately apparent to those around her: “She’s a glass of wine in a paper cup. Proof that something fine can be something rough. Watching her’s like watching the sunset in the rain. You know it’s there, and you know it’s beautiful, but you know you’re gonna have to look through the gray./ Someday, everyone is going to feel exactly the same way about you as I do. Until then, I’m going to keep the secret of you.”

“Omaha” sees him looking back with bittersweet fondness on a relationship that didn’t survive, but harboring no regrets: “My oh my, what a sight you are for these sore eyes./ Be sorry for loving me, be sorry for leaving me. Be sorry for what you can’t take back. But those nights we spent in Omaha, spending tomorrows we didn’t have, baby don’t be sorry for that.”

“Left Your Coat Behind“, a reimagining of a song originally featured on American Dreaming, sounds a little like an early Elton John song with its urgent and intricate piano keys. The lyrics seem to be about a couple having a furtive affair: “The clock on the wall is screaming at the clock in the hall, and I know I’m running out of time. You’ve only just arrived, now you’re saying goodbye. It seems I wanted to tell you something, but it slipped my mind. Have you realized that you left your coat behind?“

Closing out the album is the Billy Joel-esque “So Passes the Light from the Eye“, a song I’m guessing is about the ephemeral nature of life: “So passes the sun from the sky. So passes the long day into that long black night with a flicker, and a whisper, then you die. So passed the light now from your eye.” His vocals rise from a soft croon to commanding along with his stirring piano. It’s a fitting and majestic end to this delicately beautiful, yet deeply affecting and powerful album.

Find Jesse’s music on Bandcamp / Spotify / Apple Music / Amazon Music / YouTube