Most singer-songwriters hit a plateau by their fourth record. They either lean too heavily into a formula that once worked or chase reinvention so hard they lose their core identity. Julia Jacklin dodged that trap entirely. Her fourth studio album, The Gem, arrives with a sharp, lived-in clarity that proves she's working at a completely different level than most of her indie-rock peers.
If you loved the quiet devastation of 2019's Crushing or the probing introspection of 2022's Pre Pleasure, you already know Jacklin possesses a rare gift. She turns mundane, everyday friction into devastatingly honest lyricism. But The Gem feels looser, bolder, and surprisingly playful without ever sacrificing emotional weight.
The Pub Upstairs and the Sound of Real Friendship
The album's title isn't a random metaphor. Jacklin recorded these ten tracks in Melbourne, working above a local Collingwood pub called The Gem alongside producer Robert Muiños and a tight-knit band of friends including guitarist Jacob Diamond, bassist Mimi Gilbert, and drummer Jess Elwood.
That physical environment bleeds into the record's sonic DNA. You can hear the camaraderie in the room. When the recording sessions paused, the musicians would mosey downstairs to watch whatever local act was playing that evening. That community spirit grounds the entire 10-track collection. It breathes warmth into earthy guitar tones and unpolished percussion, steering clear of sterile, over-produced studio polish.
Instead of hiding behind grand sonic walls, Jacklin lets her voice sit right at the front. Her vocals remain an absolute superpower—featherweight yet startlingly controlled, capable of turning a casual observation about a neighbor or a phone call with her dad into an existential reckoning.
Autonomy Versus Devotion
The eternal tug-of-war between personal freedom and romantic attachment has fueled Jacklin's catalog from day one. On The Gem, she tackles that friction head-on, questioning whether total autonomy can actually coexist with deep love.
Consider the standout track "God Sometimes," where she imagines stepping into an almighty role to force a desired outcome. Contrast that with "If I Had the Hand of God," where she wonders if being all-knowing would even fix human loneliness. It's smart, self-aware songwriting. She isn't offering neat resolutions because life doesn't hand them out.
Even tracks like "Get Away From Me (I Think I'll Love You Soon)"—built on a mischievously catchy, eighties-leaning jangle-pop groove—deal with severe emotional neurosis. She wants to be loved, but she's deeply suspicious of what surrendering that independence actually costs.
Moving Past the Polish
What makes The Gem stick is its willingness to sound raw. On the penultimate track, "Walk on Me," Jacklin builds a dense, pained wall of guitars and crashing percussion during the final minutes, letting her vocals wail over the distortion without a single word. It's an exhausting, cathartic release.
By the time the album closes with "I Wish"—a gentle, collaborative folk piece featuring the Melbourne duo the Maes written for her younger self—you realize you've just listened to an artist refusing to stagnate. She doesn't need gimmicks or massive sonic departures to stay interesting. She just needs a microphone, a few trusted friends, and the courage to keep telling the exact truth about how messy it is to grow up.
Grab a vinyl copy, spin it on a quiet afternoon, and let the craftsmanship sink in. It's easily one of the sharpest releases of the year.
