“What’s this fondness I’ve found?” – on shaping Tasha’s Tell Me What You Miss the Most

When I first listened to Chicago musician Tasha’s 2021 sophomore album, Tell Me What You Miss the Most, I was stuck in my childhood bedroom – a bedroom whose personality did not match that of the teenager who decorated it – back home from another exhausting college semester. I was in for yet another round of quarantine. So perhaps I was eager for comfort or hope (or both) from the burden that sickness weighs you down with. When the needle first dropped on the record, I couldn’t have known just how much comfort, hope, and so much more were awaiting me in Tell Me What You Miss the Most.

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Perhaps for most readers, the thesis that our taking to certain albums is influenced by extraneous factors – ie. factors beyond the album itself – is uncontroversial. Personally, I’ve found that my attempts to explain why I like certain albums appeal equally to both content of the album in question and the extraneous. My explanations are like a pendulum swinging in the chest of a grandfather clock; they sway back and forth between appeals to what’s within the album – eg. its composition, lyricism, narrative structure, etc. – and acknowledgement of extraneous factors – eg. listener biases, setting, mood, etc. In other words, albums seldom exist in a neutral space: individual listeners are apt to shape the scope, meaning, and experience of an album just as much as the album itself.

When I reflect on that cold December evening, it does not escape me that my longing for light in the proverbial darkness shaped my experience of listening to Tasha’s sophomore album. The stresses of quarantining were matched with the fatigue of a difficult and demanding semester, one in which I grew but had me asking “at what cost”? This undoubtedly amplified the resonance of the album’s ups and downs. However, I do not mean, in any way, to take away from the brilliance of Tell Me What You Miss the Most. If anything, it speaks to how effectively Tasha explores an impressively wide range of themes, from self-care, love, joy, and shared histories, all in a project that feels especially suited to be shaped and molded by the listener.

The album’s opening track, Bed Song 1, is held together by an entrancing guitar pattern punctuated with sustaining violin notes. The song accomplishes the impressive feat of feeling both ethereal and physical. As the violin, bass, and Tasha’s own voice combine to elevate and expand the song’s profile, the listener is struck by the audible friction between the guitar strings and Tasha’s fingers as they slide up and down the fret board. The result is an opening track that extends a hand and pulls you into Tasha’s sonicly rich and vibrant world, while not forgetting to remind you of the pleasures of texture and touch.

Tasha is a musician from Chicago. She performed songs from her sophomore album at San Francisco’s Bottom of the Hill on Wednesday, May 25th.

Perfect Wife, the project’s standout track is enough to lift anyone up on their feet. The song is pure catharsis and joy, and described by Tasha herself (with a smile and a giggle) as “the lesbian song”. When I first heard Tasha sing “Let’s find someplace we can go out and dance”, I fondly recall being drawn to my swaying shoulders and hips, and turning my bedroom into my own dance hall.

Tasha’s lyricism throughout the project perfectly straddles the subtle dance of writing between specificity and broadness. In moments when Tasha reorients her words to be more particular, they nevertheless retain an ounce of identification. Throughout the momentous build up of Sorry’s Not Enough, the album’s 4th track, Tasha casts doubt on her efforts and those of others to love and be loved (“I’ve gone and fooled myself / Thinking they’d love me still / Through all that doubt we’d felt”). However, somberness turns to hope, and signaled by the guitar feverishly picking up pace,Tasha sings triumphantly “I’ll try again in the morning / I’ll be okay in the evening”. Tasha’s affirmation speaks to our efforts every and each day to try, then try again, and then again… in response to fading hope.

After the wind chimes of Love Interlude gently float the listener into the album’s second half, the listener is treated to a suite of underappreciated tracks that combine some of Tasha’s best lyrics and vocal performance. In the second verse of Burton Island, Tasha sings “Lay on this lapping shore / Every lake reminds me of another I’ve swam before / What’s this fondness I’ve found?”. Her voice is warm and comforting, like soothing tea, fuzzy blankets, and more. Self care and the comforts of one’s own bed is reaffirmed in the album’s last track, as Tasha sings “I’ve forgotten what loneliness allows / Brings a sweetness near, only I can rouse”.

In the months since, Tell Me What You Miss the Most has become a regular in the listening rotation. Unsurprisingly, I jumped at the opportunity to see Tasha perform at the historic Bottom of the Hill in San Francisco’s Potrero Hill neighborhood two Wednesday’s ago. On tour for about a month at that point as an opener, one could tell that Tasha was relieved to be performing her own show, albeit for a smaller crowd. The small audience contributed to the concert’s intimate feel, along with the stripping down of already simple and uncluttered songs. Tasha performed a healthy mix of songs both from Tell Me What You Miss the Most and her discography.

Tasha performs at San Francisco’s Bottom of the Hill on Wednesday, May 25th. It was her second to last stop of her Spring 2022 tour.

The concert wasn’t the loudest, it wasn’t the craziest, but it was by no means forgettable. The unique geometry, design, artwork of the venue itself – with its moody lighting and plethora of framed posters – reminded me in subtle ways of my childhood bedroom, the same one I quarantined in when I listened to Tasha for the first time. Perhaps it was this minute correlation, almost subconscious in nature, that brought me back to that December night. How much more self-care, love, and joy – all themes explored by Tasha – do I carry with me now, in part because Tell Me What You Miss the Most allowed me to articulate, shape, and dance with these feelings? When Tasha took the stage, I had the opportunity to experience the answer to that question. (The answer? A lot!).

My appreciation for Tasha’s sophomore album (and her wider discography) has only grown the more time I’ve had to shape it, to match it to my own lived experience, like a ceramist shapes clay. What Tasha accomplishes in Tell Me What You Miss the Most deserves the highest level of praise I can give. Tasha evokes genuine joy, hope, triumph and release, while authoring lyrics that remain both personal and malleable to the experiences of the listener.

Since that fateful December night to Wednesday’s poetic performance at the Bottom of the Hill (and days in between), I listen to this most excellent of albums and ask myself “what’s this fondness I’ve found?”.

Article by Joe Sison

Photos by Baylie Raddon