BY KRISTINA VIVIANO
August 10, 2024
Almost ten years after Harlow Hayes debuted on the music scene with her young, fun hit “James Dean,” she delivers a multifaceted, genre-bending masterpiece with her fifth studio albumLegacy.
Arguably Hayes’ best work yet,Legacyis the moody follow-up—a sister record of sorts—to her critically acclaimedApotheosis, the Grammy-Award-winning result of the beloved musician’s multiyear reinvention. And what better way to further solidify the rising queen of dark pop’sApotheosisby giving life to yet another album that references so much about death?
Each song on the ten-track album adds something special to the final result, creating a mysterious and haunting musical mosaic that lends credence to Hayes’ growing fanbase’s claims that she’s one of the best in the game. But, likeApotheosis, Hayes’ cryptic lyrics are the spark of much debate. So what do we make of them?
We believe Hayes is expressing an existential crisis from start to finish, something us mere mortals will never have to face—a struggle to live out a human experience despite being treated and worshipped like a god. For example, with lyrics like, “I don’t even recognize the real me / That’s my legacy,” we see Hayes grapple with her “Apotheosis” throughout the album, from the eerie “No Way Back” and “Footsteps in the Snow” to the chillingly vulnerable, devastating piece of songcraft, “Rose-Covered Grave.” The middle of the album hides the record’s two best songs, the hauntingly brilliant lead single, “Garden of Bones,” and the sequel toApotheosis’ most popular track, “Violent Ends Part II,” which showcases Hayes’ underrated vocals as she belts out serrated notes over a powerhouse bass and drumline.
From there, Hayes mimics the beauty and brutality of her experience, warmly singing against a delicate piano on “Melancholy” before her gossamer voice soars over the jagged melodies of “Echo.” It’s a heart-pulverizing ending that confirms the acceptance of her transformation as she finally finds a way to come to terms with both the darkness and glamor of her persona, admitting, “For the glory and fame, I’d do it the same”—and we’re happy to hear it.
Legacy,Harlow Hayes: Track List
No Way Back
Footsteps in the Snow
One Step Ahead
Rose-Covered Grave
Garden of Bones
If You Ever Get Lonely (Yellow Door)
Violent Ends Part II
Endless Loop
Melancholy
Echo
Chapter 3
Naomi lands in New York red-eyed and drowsy from the overnight flight. She hoped to get some rest on the plane, but couldn’t sleep. So instead, she paid the extra eight bucks for Wi-Fi and dove back into her Harlow research, wanting to learn everything she could about the singer before she spends the next few days covering her arrest.
She didn’t realize how much there was to catch up on, though—Harlow Hayes isn’t the basic pop star Naomi once thought she was. Now, she’s an iconic enigma, and by the time the plane descended over the foggy dawn of the New York City skyline, Naomi was well and truly down the Harlow Hayes rabbit hole.
After doing the standard Google search and reading a few recent articles, Naomi spent most of her time scrolling through endless #HarlowHayes-related social media posts, reading and watching content ranging from fan edits and tributes sending Harlow “strength,” to commentary from D-list influencers chronicling how they could tell she was a psycho from her “dead eyes.”
It fascinated Naomi to see how obsessed both fans and critics are. While the harshest critics are celebrating the downfall of Harlow, this person they have never met, super fans—also known as stans—are speaking about her as if they know her personally, referring to her by cute nicknames and defending her with extreme passion, swarming under any post denouncing Harlow with everything from well-intentioned rebuttals to malicious death threats.
These intense reactions don’t stun Naomi, though. As a journalist, she knows how powerful online fanbases are and how a bad album review can trigger the wrath of millions. She also knows the disturbing reactions aren’t representative of the fandom as a whole, but rather the loud one percent. She wonders if someone from that small percentage took it offline. Took their “devotion” to another level. It doesn’t make sense for a stan to frame their idol, but maybe one of them felt slighted by Harlow. Or, conversely, decided to kill in her honor…
In the cigarette-scented cab, Naomi scrolls through a Reddit thread for true crime enthusiasts, surprised by how many are already convinced Harlow is guilty. Citing the copious mentions of blood and death in her more recent lyrics, they make Naomi wonder if she misunderstood the pop star all along. She recites the pre-chorus of Hayes’ haunting track “Garden of Bones” in her head as she stares out the dirty window.
A garden of bones, watered with tears. Blood-soaked soil, saturated with fear. No one knows I laid her here. Alongside a part of me buried for years…
In comparison to her earlier albums, there’s no denying Harlow’s more recent music is much darker. But as a writer, Naomi knows to read between the lines, and instead of taking the lyrics as a confession, she interprets them as a poetic, spiritual metaphor about Hayes burying a part of herself. Plenty of famous musicians make analogies to death and it doesn’t mean a thing.
They don’t stand accused of murder, though.
A car horn blares and Harlow’s eerie song drifts out of Naomi’s mind, replaced by the sounds of squeaky brakes, distant sirens, angry drivers, and more honking. And thoughts of Faye.
Naomi was hoping she could hold off on feeling sorry for herself, but everything about the city reminds her of her sister, from the dirty sidewalks they’d stroll down, coffee and bagel in hand, to the bars they’d frequent—or, thanks to Faye, sometimes get kicked out of. It was like trying to ignore someone punching her in the gut over and over again. Impossible.
