Few albums in recent memory dive as deeply into the raw and often chaotic landscape of human emotion as Borderline, the debut full-length record from singer-songwriter Jacob D. Edward. Released on February 14, 2025, Borderline is a deeply personal collection of songs shaped by trauma, introspection, and ultimately, self-reclamation. It follows his 2023 EP Threshold, which was years in the making, but this new album represents a marked shift—an artistic and personal coming-of-age that was written in just one year, mirroring the intense emotional work Jacob underwent in therapy. The result is a record that does not shy away from pain but instead confronts it head-on, weaving a sonic tapestry that blends folk, blues, ballads, swing, and confessional songwriting into something both haunting and cathartic.
Thematically, Borderline immerses listeners in the turbulent world of the traumatised, exploring loneliness, desire, delusion, disgust, and despair with an unflinching gaze. Each track is a window into the fractured yet fascinating mind of someone navigating the complexities of trauma. There’s a sense of movement—of transformation—throughout the album. Jacob doesn’t merely wallow in these emotions; he dissects them, allowing the listener to witness the painful yet necessary process of self-exploration. His music channels the spirit of folk legends like Damien Jurado, Jason Molina, and Dave Van Ronk, balancing poetic lyricism with a raw, unfiltered intimacy that makes the album feel less like a performance and more like a deeply personal confession.
Opening track Sophie Take Me Dancing sets the tone immediately—both musically and thematically. There’s an aching longing in his voice, a desire to escape reality, to lose oneself in the arms of another, even if just for a moment. It’s the kind of song that makes you want to close your eyes and sway, feeling the weight of its emotion settle deep in your bones. Musings and Chorus take a more introspective approach, diving into Jacob’s own self-perception and artistic process, capturing the restless mind of someone who overthinks everything yet cannot help but create.
Then there’s Self Portrait, one of the album’s most poignant moments. It’s a meditation on identity, shaped by both internal struggles and external forces. The influence of Jacob’s intensive therapy sessions is especially evident here, as he unpacks the weight of personal history and how it shapes our understanding of ourselves. In Nomine Patris—Latin for “In the Name of the Father”—delves into family trauma, a powerful track that wrestles with generational pain and the burden of inherited wounds. Medley and En Route To The End take on a more narrative approach, tracing the arc of someone who is simultaneously running from the past and trying to make peace with it.
A standout track is Il miglior fabbro Francis Alban Blake, a title that references T.S. Eliot’s dedication to Ezra Pound, translating to “the better craftsman.” It’s a song that feels like a poetic riddle, layered with references and emotions that shift with each listen. Meanwhile, Medusa is perhaps the most visceral song on the album, evoking feelings of paralysis, fear, and the struggle to reclaim one’s own power.
Closing track Restatement of Romance provides a fitting conclusion to Borderline—not in the sense of a neat resolution, but rather an acknowledgment that healing is an ongoing process. There’s a bittersweet quality to it, a recognition that while trauma leaves scars, there is beauty in survival, in love, in simply continuing forward.
Produced by Frank Bond at Studio De Ontpopping, Borderline is sonically intimate, its production designed to bring Jacob’s voice and emotions to the forefront. There’s an unfiltered honesty in how each note is delivered, making the listener feel as though they are sitting in the same room as Jacob, bearing witness to his confessions. The stripped-down instrumentation allows the storytelling to shine, amplifying the weight of each lyric.
What makes Borderline truly stand out is its ability to balance darkness with light. Yes, it is an album born out of trauma, but it is also about overcoming, about the slow process of rebuilding oneself after being shattered. There’s a quiet resilience woven throughout its tracks, a recognition that while pain is inevitable, so is growth. Jacob D. Edward has crafted something remarkable here—an album that doesn’t just ask you to listen but to feel, to reflect, and maybe even to heal.
