John Jenkins - Restless Hearts (2025)

John Jenkins’ latest release, “Restless Hearts”, is a laid-back album that seems to be deliberately emphasising the acoustic. It is also nearly the definition of americana: sometimes leaning towards folk, sometimes country and sometimes simple singer/songwriter – with the occasional hint of blues in places.

Lyrically, “Restless Hearts” is an album of imagined vignettes, many of which contain a deep sadness. While the songs may not be autobiographical, they clearly come from a place of extensive reflection. Indeed, the overall tone of the record is one of melancholia, introspection and nostalgia. There’s a sense of regret, emotional weariness, and a search for meaning or redemption. Even the moments of warmth or memory are tinged with sadness or distance. The words often evoke quiet sorrow, with speakers wrestling with loss, missed chances, and the weight of everyday life. They deal with themes like lost love, caused by neglect or misstep, emotional exhaustion and the search for home.

Country leaning opener, ‘Cruel Wind’, is a powerful portrayal of regret and emotional aftermath. The speaker’s guilt and longing are amplified by images of water and disconnection – there are “legs made of water” which are “struggling to find my way to the shore”. The refrain is particularly powerful: the “cruel wind” becomes a metaphor for inescapable consequences. And the sadness is there too, “I’ve got the world on my shoulders/I do not seem to fit in it anymore”. Musically, the mix of strong bass line, acoustic guitars, strings and harmonised vocals adds to the thoughtful nature of the song.

‘The Disappearance’ is the song that feels closest to a short story. There is an ambiguity about what has happened, which is unsettling. “Not knowing if she was pushed or did she jump” blurs guilt and innocence, loss and responsibility. The song starts with a simple acoustic guitar progression, which allows the vignette, and its sadness, to sit centre stage: the emotional weight lies in the partner’s unravelling, haunted more by what he doesn’t know than what he does. An emotive violin part adds to that sense of sadness.

The album might be at its best when it’s at its most subtle. For example, ‘Colorado in the Spring’, based mostly on a strummed acoustic guitar joined later in the song by a mournful cello part, is a poetic song filled with spiritual ambiguity. It tells the story of Alice, who “As a child she thought she’d seen an Angel/When her mother passed away”, and the listener is left unsure whether this is real or just the haze of memory. And the repetition of the line “I do believe I was right” – sung by the beautifully voiced Pippa Murphy – feels like a powerful defensive mantra against inner conflict. Similarly, ‘The Sound of Thunder’ is one of the most richly drawn stories. Mundane details, such as “Fed the cat – she ignored me/She sits on the windowsill, can’t remember a time she ever sat on my knee,” add emotional depth and give the song a very lived-in feel. Musically, there is no sound of thunder, but there is a beautiful, subtle, slightly bluesy guitar part which perhaps emphasises the symbolic use of thunder: there is something – a reckoning or unresolved trauma – rumbling just out of reach.

The way that Jenkins has crafted the album, built on a series of unconnected stories, might mean that there is no one message he wants to share. And that works. But there does feel like there is a heart. Slow burner ‘The Not Knowing’ stands out for its philosophical depth and the idea that uncertainty itself is a painful condition. Lines such as “It’s no use living in the ashes of a dead happiness” are devastating, but it is the existential lack of clarity that underlies the song, and the album: “Is it in the not knowing/That really gets under his skin”. It is also a song that can really get under the listener’s skin: another blend of acoustic and strings that can really persist in the memory.

Overall, “Restless Hearts” is a quietly powerful collection that invites the listener into a world of emotional ambiguity and faded light. While there are highlights, none of the songs misfire. Jenkins has a gift for conjuring characters and moments that linger, not because they are grand or dramatic, but because they feel true. The restrained arrangements and thoughtful lyrics combine to form an album that is rich in texture and feeling. For those drawn to the storytelling heart of americana, this is a record that rewards patient, attentive listening.