“Love & Desire” - James Harries
Photo Credit: Artist EPK
There’s something almost old-fashioned about the honesty that runs through James Harries’ new album, Love & Desire. Not old-fashioned in style — though there are echoes of classic folk and soul here — but in spirit. In an age of overproduction and algorithmic perfection, Harries dares to sound human.
The origin story sets the tone perfectly. When Harries’ son found an old film camera and returned with a batch of overexposed, “ruined” photographs, something clicked — or rather, un-clicked. The polished, careful album Harries had been working on suddenly felt hollow next to the beautiful chaos of those pictures. He ditched the click tracks, scrapped the layers, and gathered a few trusted friends in a room. What they made in three days wasn’t just a record; it was a moment caught on tape — uncontrolled, unfiltered, and unmistakably alive.
From the first notes, Love & Desire hums with immediacy. The opener, “Sabotage,” sets the tone — lean, intimate, the sound of a band exhaling together after holding their breath for too long. Harries’ voice — that warm, weathered, utterly distinctive instrument — is front and center, carrying decades of road miles, heartbreak, and quiet revelation. When he sings, you believe him.
Then comes “Shivers Down My Spine,” the lead single, and it’s easy to see why. It channels that early Van Morrison mix of soul and surrender — loose, organic, unguarded. There’s a swing in the rhythm, a pulse that feels alive, as if the song itself is breathing right beside you.
Photo Credit: Artist EPK
Elsewhere, “I Want Out” leans into the scruffier textures of indie-folk — think Big Thief or Blake Mills — all instinct and atmosphere. “Paris” shimmers like sunlight through old glass, a simple melody elevated by Harries’ delicate touch and emotional clarity. And the title track, “Love & Desire,” ties it all together: a meditation on the tension between what we long for and what we can’t hold onto.
What’s striking is how little Harries seems to try. There’s no reaching here, no striving for radio polish or cinematic grandeur. The production feels lived-in — guitars creak, drumsticks brush, voices overlap. The imperfections become the heartbeat. It’s the sound of a songwriter trusting his instincts, trusting his band, and above all, trusting the moment.
For longtime fans, Love & Desire feels like a return to what has always made Harries magnetic: that blend of folk authenticity, soulful delivery, and poetic understatement. For new listeners, it’s an ideal entry point — a record that feels immediate yet timeless, intimate yet expansive.
Across nine songs, Harries reminds us that beauty isn’t found in what’s flawless — it’s in the fleeting, the fragile, the human. Recorded in just three days but resonant for years to come, Love & Desire isn’t merely an album title — it’s a thesis on what it means to feel deeply and let go gracefully.
“Love & Desire” is available now on all major streaming platforms
