Album Anniversaries: 5 Years Later, ‘Sprained Ankle’ Still Evokes Fresh Grief
In the five years since its release, Julien Baker’s self-produced first record has aged into a testament to humankind’s ability to change and progress.
In Album Anniversaries, writers honor their favorite aging albums and their subsequent legacies, revealing which projects have stood the test of time.
Written by Felix Kalvesmaki
Photo courtesy of Chris Bubinas
In 2015, then-25-year-old singer-songwriter Julien Baker released Sprained Ankle on Bandcamp to little fanfare. A set of nine uncomplicated, self-produced emo/folk songs, the project ponders over her personal life with unwavering detail. But after the album was re-released on 6131 Records, she eventually signed to Matador and took a break from college to tour full-time. Baker would go on to establish her songwriting chops with her 2017 sophomore effort Turn Out The Lights and her 2018 boygenius collaboration with Phoebe Bridgers and Lucy Dacus.
In 2020, Sprained Ankle still kills. Its wispy guitars provide delicate backings to Baker’s poetry, and self-deprecating lyrics like “I ruin everything I think could be good news” and “Give me everything good / I’ll throw it away / I wish I could quit but I can't stand the shakes” continue to sucker punch. Baker’s record is sad through-and-through, unflinching in its misery. She’s honest about her experiences, discussing everything from abandonment and suicidal ideation to failed romance and addiction. On the title track, she expresses disappointment in her art: “Wish I could write songs about anything other than death.” When faced with a breakup, Baker grieves, “I know I meant nothing to you / But I thought I meant something.” On “Everybody Does” she sings, “You’re gonna run / It’s alright / Everybody does.” Later, her “skin is full of black ink” on “Vessels,” where she uses her blood and veins to discuss drug misuse.
It’d be a crime to discuss Baker’s work without discussing her religion and guitar. Baker identifies as a Christian socialist, and much of her discography delivers heavy spiritual angst. Reminiscing on a traffic accident in “Blacktop,” she deliberates: "And I know I saw [God’s] hand / When I went out and wrapped my car / Around the streetlamp.” At different points in the album, she reckons with God on her own mortality, even outright asking, “Why did you let them leave / And then make me stay? / Know my name / And all of my hideous mistakes?" However, she comes to terms with her temporality and closes the track with a declaration of resolute belief: “I rejoice.”
But what ties it all together is the production. There are musical moments on this record that can make the listener experience the God that Baker sings to. “Brittle Boned” crescendos into an angelic falsetto, warm guitar plucks, and one of the few instances of drummings on this record — cymbals whispering into the ears, drums booming. And then there’s “Good News,” in which Baker trills and almost chokes, harmonies haunting her as she laments on her own pessimism.
And then there’s the telecaster. Baker plays guitar on all of her records — she’s arguably the lead guitarist of boygenius. Critics and fans alike laud her insane shredding abilities, as well as the gossamer and eerie sounds that come out of her amps. Killer guitar riffs aside, Sprained Ankle is sparse, but it’s not without production value: the voice of a rousing preacher in the background of “Go Home,” the airy harmonies that lace throughout each song, and the echoing reverb that almost make Baker sound like she’s singing to the pews. It all builds a lonely, chilling atmosphere that broods as much as her lyrics do.
Image courtesy of 6131 Records
The final track “Go Home” could make a Buckingham Palace guard’s eyes water. In the song, Baker confronts several of her demons at once: loneliness, depression, religious unrest, and overuse of cigarettes and liquor. It’s a melancholy five minutes, but it’s also the most outstanding song on the record. Baker exorcises her worst thoughts via yelling, her voice aching with a need for something better. As a friend takes care of her, she says, “You're still worried I'm gonna get scared again / And make my insides clean with your kitchen bleach.” Her last words are delivered with a roar and a croak as she goes on, “I'm tired of washing my hands / God, I wanna go home.”
However, there’s something incredibly powerful about “Go Home” that didn’t exist until 2017. In her second album, Baker closes with “Claws In Your Back,” a sad song — as any Julien Baker track in a minor key is. What makes it special is that it ends with a reversal that changes the context of the original “Go Home.” “[‘Claws In Your Back’ is] supposed to be antithetical to the last song on Sprained Ankle, ‘Go Home,’” Baker told Pitchfork in an interview. “Because that song is about wanting to remove yourself from this plane of existence, because of overwhelming suffering. I wanted to redress that feeling and say, ‘I changed my mind. There’s so many things that can still be beautiful.’ That was the last sentiment that I wanted to leave on the record.”
“Go Home,” as solemn as it may be, matured into something that was — until her second release — uncharacteristic for Baker. In 2015, the song was a rumination on Baker’s struggles, but in 2020, it is a testament to humankind’s ability to adapt and survive. The same could be said for all of Sprained Ankle’s malaise and anguish; although these are sad songs, Baker’s progression shows that there is a light in every dark basement.