Harmony Tividad continues to find peace in Lifetime

This tends to occur when you’re dealing with emotional pangs that make you wish to live in a simpler past, where your giddy innocence shimmers every day of your life. But that’s not how life works, after all. Reality’s harsh truths will eventually come out of the woodwork, and it takes time to find solace with that newfound situation.

With that said, Harmony Tividad’s arc as a solo musician is best described as wandering. Through her debut album, Gossip, she plays the deadpan LA party girl persona whose irony might gain her satisfaction, but those fragile walls instantly break down, showcasing a sincere sadness amidst parties that has never really felt the same anymore. While sonically tepid, the thematic arc at least tries to reach a sense of solitude.

Naturally, Tividad’s second offering, Lifetime, then embraces genuine tenderness that doubles down on her emotional swell. It’s an album locked in a cycle of moving on and clinging to a youthful past that complicates her purview. She sits with those thoughts on the title track, with the rustic acoustics giving way to her lilting voice: “Good times go in a blink eye / And when I close my eyes / It’s been a lifetime”.

Amidst its warmer instrumentation, Tividad’s internal reflections are delivered most sharply when she’s stepping upon distinctive tones. The vocoder and light synth drums pair well with the organic instruments of “Apple Pie”, emphasising the muted disconnect she feels towards an ex dating another girl who has a youthful outlook as her. The pulsating crescendos of “I’m Still Learning How To Leave You” have her contemplating her past relationship, letting her voice try to sear through the pain of letting go when the memories are still fresh in her mind.

This all leads to slowburners that bookend the album. “Where Strangers Go”, with its glossy keys, contains a glint of curiosity, observing strangers and the ways they fall in love, echoing Tividad’s desire to yearn once again. “Pantomimer”, however, is both a resolution and a question. Her raw and upfront vocals straddle sifting grooves and mellotron unveils what she has discovered: “I don’t know what I want / So I guess I want it all”. She’s unsure and lonely, but she continues to desire so much despite that predicament.

Yet, like her debut album, there remains a hesitation echoing across the record. Its toss-up with stuffy organic folk and synthetic balladries doesn’t always craft snappy melodies; Tividad’s girlish coos don’t exactly best evoke her deeply conflicted emotions; and her writing, while bringing a reserved nuance to her reflections, tends to loop within that ache rather than opening a path for her to breathe.

Lifetime becomes an emotional progression that stews in Tividad’s sorrow. Gently poking around to see where she goes across comfortably glossy and organic tones, but resorts to wallowing behind closed curtains. For now, she may still feel that thorny haze, but the mature insight she’s able to embrace will continue to flourish for her entire lifetime.