ALBUM REVIEW: Aperture — The Head and the Heart

The Head and the Heart just dropped Aperture, an album proving that introspection doesn’t have to be quiet.

After a few years of exploring new directions, the indie-folk band returned to their roots with their first self-produced album since 2011. With themes of hope, introspection, and the choice between light and dark, Aperture is a powerful reminder that it’s never too late to choose hope. Aperture is anthemic, heartfelt, and ready to soundtrack your next big life moment.

“After the Setting Sun” opens the album with quiet vulnerability, mourning the loss of a loved one while reaching for acceptance. With falsetto-soaked vocals and restrained instrumentation, The Head and the Heart lay bare a meditation on grief, loss, and the questions we ask when someone we love is gone. But as the track progresses, it swells in energy, offering a slow-burning sense of peace or acceptance. As a first track, it’s a gentle but resonant opening, one that doesn’t shy away from the darkness but points toward the light just beyond it.

“Time With My Sins” feels like a return to classic Head and the Heart—anthemic, catchy, and a little heartbreaking. While the lyrics hint at emotional disconnection and relational tension, the delivery is more reflective than raw. It’s about reckoning with your own flaws while navigating the fragile middle ground between honesty and self-sabotage.

“Arrow” rides a steady kick drum and piano-driven rhythm, channeling restlessness into resolve. It’s a song about moving through life without anchors, where independence is both a necessity and a burden. With its steady build and a chorus made to be shouted back live, the band proves again they can wrap introspection in an indie folk package that still hits wide.

“Beg, Steal, Borrow” is the first song on the album where we more prominently hear Charity Rose Thielen, whose voice blends seamlessly with frontman Jonathan Russell’s. Clever, but classic lyrics—“And maybe the sun’ll come out tomorrow/You don’t have to beg, steal, or borrow”—anchor a track that feels familiar in the best way.

“Cop Car” stands out for the rasp and rawness in Russell’s vocal delivery—at times strained, even shouting, but balanced by falsetto and prevalent background harmonies. The contrast adds texture to a song that veers more into storytelling, while the closing lines, borrowing from “This Little Light of Mine,” give the song an unexpected, almost redemptive twist.

“Blue Embers” leans into vulnerability, with Thielen’s harmonies giving extra weight to a song already heavy with self-doubt and faded hope. The violin subtly threads through the mix, and the abrupt piano cutoff at the end leaves the emotional tension unresolved—fitting for a track that’s questioning belief in both self and others.

“Fire Escape” opens with lively piano chords and keeps the energy moving, likely making it a standout in a live set. Lyrically, it’s a reflection on time, memory, and personal growth, or maybe the lack of it. The fire escape becomes a recurring setting for moments of clarity and connection, even as the narrator questions how much they've really changed.

“Pool Break” carries an emotional weight through its nearly all-falsetto delivery, giving it an air of fragility that mirrors the narrative's internal struggle. The song's story of a boy reaching out to his father for guidance resonates with a universal longing for connection and understanding.

“Jubilee” is a drum-heavy, energetic track that captures the rush and unpredictability of falling in and out of love. It’s infectious chorus makes it the kind of song you'd scream in the car, caught in the excitement of new love, making it the perfect anthem for anyone who’s ever let their heart take the lead, even when they don’t know what’s ahead.

“West Coast” explores the struggle of moving forward while holding on to what’s familiar, with a sense of longing for something undefined but better. It’s a reflective, emotionally charged track, where the search for new beginnings is tempered by the fear of leaving behind what’s comfortable.

"Finally Free" stands out as a haunting, ethereal track driven by high-pitched, delicate piano melodies. This is the one song where Thielen takes the lead vocals, and the track conveys the struggle of breaking free from inner conflict, blending a dream-like quality with a sense of catharsis.

"Aperture" closes the album with a profound reflection on choice, agency, and hope. Echoing the struggle between darkness and light, the track speaks to the human capacity to choose hope in the face of adversity.

Aperture doesn’t offer easy answers, but it sits with the hard questions long enough to turn them into something beautiful. There’s no tidy resolution here, just the quiet courage of choosing light even when the dark is still close behind. It’s a record that lingers—not because it insists, but because it understands.