Harrison Gesser opens “Can’t Sit Still” with the kind of emotional clarity you hear in “Happy With (A Lot Of) Complaints” — a song that turns sleepless nights, frayed nerves, and quiet self-reckonings into something unexpectedly hopeful. He writes about broken routines, lingering losses, and the strange comfort of learning to live with imperfections, but he does it with a wry smile and an honesty that never feels heavy-handed. That blend of weariness and warmth runs through the entire album, setting the stage for a debut that treats vulnerability not as a dramatic declaration, but as a simple fact of being human.
Harrison has never been one to sit still, and that restless energy finally has a home in his new album, “Can’t Sit Still.” The singer-songwriter has put together a record that’s both wide-reaching and welcoming. After years of quietly turning heads with bold, genre-blending singles, he now intertwines together Americana, indie pop, alt-rock, and more into a sound that’s genuinely his own—curious, open, and sincere.
“Just One Man,” is the track that makes Harrison’s openness impossible to miss. It’s built on tender piano, subtle but purposeful drumming, and a chorus delivered with disarming warmth. His voice doesn’t hide its rough edges, and that’s part of what makes it so comforting—he sings like someone who’s lived through highs and lows and doesn’t feel the need to dress them up. Ronnie Gesser’s understated production adds depth without crowding the song, Bryan Lamar’s guitar brings a soft glow, and Madison Grant’s gang-vocal moments create a sense of closeness. Quiet and unforced, “Just One Man” attests that music can feel both personal and shared without ever raising its voice.
“Happy With (A Lot Of) Complaints” leans into piano and harmony to explore the balance between self-doubt and quiet optimism. The song moves on reflective keys and intertwined vocals, turning everyday frustrations into something oddly uplifting. Harrison sings with knowing exhaustion, but there’s light in it, too. David Galli’s alto sax adds a gentle, slightly jazzy wobble that keeps things interesting. Nothing here is overplayed—the track wins you over by slowly revealing its charm. Ronnie Gesser’s polished mix makes room for Harrison’s melodies to really land.
Elsewhere, the album shifts colors without losing its core. “Mountain With You” is a pop-leaning journey through heartbreak and nostalgia, carried by John Putnam’s guitar, Marty Quinn’s bass, and swirling synths that express the strange clarity of looking back on an old love. “The Amnesia Song” takes a more experimental turn, mixing fretless bass, strings, and world percussion into something dreamlike. Instead of searching for literal meaning, Harrison goes straight for feeling—and it works.
Collaboration is one of the album’s greatest strengths. Harrison has gathered a remarkably cohesive group: producer and bassist Ronnie Gesser, guitarist/bassist Jeff Pevar, string arrangers Winston Thayer and Natalie Van Wrinkle, keyboardists Dave Keyes and Noah Hansfield, and a host of other musicians, engineers, and friends. Much of the album was recorded at Weeks Recording Studios and the Media Scoring and Production Recording Suite, but plenty of its most intimate textures—like the aching strings on “Let Em Go” or the live, roomy feel of “Pangaea”—came from living rooms and borrowed studios across Miami, New York, and Portland.
Tracks like “Pangaea” and “The Lord and I Are Leaving Town” have drawn attention for their thoughtfulness and ambition. “Pangaea” explores unity and belonging with rock-tinged melodies, while “The Lord and I Are Leaving Town” delivers hope with a wink of cynicism. “Lesson of the Shark,” inspired by one of Harrison’s dreams, plays with the surreal in a way that’s both funny and clear-eyed. Even as the album moves between folk, jazz, and synth-driven textures, it keeps circling the same idea – trying to find grace in a restless world.
With thousands of listeners and growing support from media, Harrison Gesser is an emerging voice worth watching. But what really stays with you after “Can’t Sit Still” isn’t the genre-mixing or the arrangements—it’s the feeling that you’ve been led into something personal. Behind every melody is a story he doesn’t fully finish telling, and every refrain leaves just a bit of mystery. If this is Harrison’s first full step on his own, it’s a remarkably assured one—an album that stands firmly on its own merits.
