“Blue Reminder” (Fat Possum Records)
By Eleni P. Austin
Have you ever attended a long-anticipated show and wound up loving the opening act more than the headliner? That happened to me a couple of weeks ago when I went to see Japanese Breakfast at Pappy’s, and the opener, Hand Habits, kind of blew me away.
Hand Habits is the nom de Rock of Meg Duffy. The non-binary musician (who prefers they/them pronouns), has been the secret weapon deployed on albums by acclaimed indie superstars like Weyes Blood, Sylvan Esso and The War On Drugs. They stepped out on their own in 2014.
Duffy endured a tumultuous childhood. By the time they were four, both parents were out of the picture. Growing up in upstate New York, they had already lived in 10 houses before turning 11. Luckily, an early influence was Aunt Anna Marie. She introduced Duffy to the sounds of The Kinks and George Thorogood, sparking an interest in music.
That continued when they worked after school at a truck-stop diner that only played Classic Country. By age 15, Duffy was playing guitar, thanks to Anna Marie’s Blues enthusiast brother, Joey. In fact, they made their onstage debut playing “Statesboro Blues” with Joey’s cover band.
Duffy studied guitar at college in Schenectady. There, they got a crash course in Indie Rock, which included plenty of pilgrimages to see Anais Mitchell shows. Soon enough, they were part of the Albany music scene, cycling through a series of bands and making ends meet by bartending at a local Rock club. At one point, one of their bands opened for singer-songwriter Kevin Morby. A connection was made and Duffy told him to call if he ever needed another guitarist. He actually needed a bassist so, they pretended they knew bass and got the gig.
A few months later, they relocated to Los Angeles. Playing with Morby opened a few doors. They surreptitiously attended a master class by producer and multi-instrumentalist Blake Mills. That led to an invitation to his recording studio where Duffy added guitar to a new Mike Hadreas (Perfume Genius) song. A stint as touring guitarist for Perfume Genius followed. Rather quickly, Duffy became an in-demand session player. They credit their guitar prowess to relentless practice.
As Hand Habits, their inaugural release was a split EP, Small Shifts/Living With Abbreviation with the band Peg. After signing with the Woodsist label, Hand Habits’ official long-player, Wildly Idle (Humble Before The Wind) arrived in 2017. Place Holder popped up two years later, followed by Fun House in 2021. They also issued a clutch of EPs between the full-length records. The most recent EP, 2025’s Sugar The Bruise was released via the Fat Possum label. Now, Hand Habits has returned with their most personal effort to date, Blue Reminder.
The opening trio of tracks deftly display the mercurial moods of Hand Habits. Shuddery drums, sinewy bass spidery synths and shrouded guitars add an elusive quality to “More Today.” Lyrics drift from confessional to equivocal: “We don’t need to talk talk too much, so you better kiss me, better stop me, better bite my tongue, I know the love we lose informs who we become, and I like myself, do you like who I am when I’m alone with you? And if this ends tomorrow….no, actually, I just don’t want it to.” Even as the arrangement explodes with intent, the feeling is cloaked and covert, until Duffy offers this full-throated cri de Coeur: “I want it all, or nothing, I want it all, or nothing.”
“Wheel Of Change” summarily flips the script of the opening song, concealing their fragility, adopting a more assertive edge. It’s powered by a propulsive beat, thready keys, ringing guitar riffs and tensile bass. Duffy’s vocals echo tough-minded antecedents like Liz Phair and k.d. lang. The anthemic chorus is buoyed empathetic backing vocals. The rubber meets the road on the second verse which re-examines childhood trauma: “I used to think time was just a vessel for pain, every second taken away from me, now I look back on those years, days lost to crippling fears, I couldn’t understand the words you whispered in my ear, I didn’t know how much you cared or if you wanted me here, do you even want me here?” Splattery guitars strafe across rippling keys, ahead of the final verse, it mirrors the track’s defiance and compliance. The barbed instrumental coda that clinches the track, simply crackles with authority.
The piano-driven “Nubble” blends cascading synths, ephemeral guitars and flinty bass lines. Lyrics limn maternal memories like a faded pentimento: “Waves crash upon the dock, lights streaming through the fog, tides, yielding to the moon, a life taken way too soon, hands steady with a brush, red, the color of my blood, Maine, summers on the coast, a stain, I’m living with a ghost.” Lifted momentarily by the ethereal chorus, the song is suffused with sadness as Duffy quietly confides “This memory is all I have.”
While this record deals with insecurity, anxiety and heartache, it mostly traffics in love and happiness (to quote the Reverend Al Green). That kicks off with “Dead Rat,” a track that contrasts an unvarnished declaration of love with the stinky discovery of a moldering rodent trapped in the walls of the house. Strummy acoustic guitars partner with meandering piano across and a trap-kit beat. There’s a delicacy to Duffy’s delivery that splits the difference between diffidence and confidence: “Midnight and my heart is aching, as I fall into the rhythm of your breath, I want to wake you up and tell you that I love you, how I need you, how I know it’s because your love, I feel sorted out.”
Doubling-down on themes of cautious optimism and animal motifs, “Bluebird Of Happiness” is anchored by jittery guitars, swirly synths, wily piano, a shuffling beat and cantilevered vocals. Lyrics bask in the contentment of the moment: “Bluebird of happiness, loneliness is gone from me, it’s time to sing your song with me of love/Bluebird of happiness, way upon your balcony, hum a little melody so strong.” Guitars synchronize on the break, with the panache of a long-forgotten Prog-Rock instrumental. Meanwhile, sly piano underpinnings add a hint of Yacht Rock goodness. The arrangement builds to a cheerful crescendo, powering down with a gnawing guitar chord.
“Jasmine Blossoms” offer a bit of flora and fauna as lyrics juxtapose personal bliss with communal hardship. Blurred saxophone notes are bookended by flickering guitar licks, lithe bass lines and a thwocking beat. Duffy’s sanguine vocals radiate happiness as the chorus drafts off the Janis Joplin ethos of gettin’ it while we can: “Try to find a little joy, harmonize your pain, the ending of the western world. we’re the ones to blame, our bellies full of cake, try to find a little joy, try…” Saxophone and guitars intertwine on the break, accenting the meditative mood. The chorus, tinged with urgency the second time around.
Rather fittingly, the title-track is the album’s centerpiece. Willowy piano collides with sun-dappled guitar on this see-saw waltz. Plain-spoken lyrics like “Will you take me as I am? Oscillating between a woman, a child and a broken man, if you stay with me, I’ll let you meet all three,” are achingly vulnerable. On the break, guitars toggle between tropical slack-key and keening pedal steel, as painterly piano, fluttery flute and lowing bassoon float across the melody. The final verse threads the needle between apprehension and assurance: “Light in the blue of your eyes is the blue that reminds me I’m afraid of losing you, I’ll do anything to prove that my love is true, I feel lighter now, I feel lighter now.”
Other interesting tracks include “Way It Goes.” Equal parts subterranean and sunny, quicksilver keys, snake-charmer guitars and ticklish piano are chained to a clanky, metallic beat. Jolted by a reminder of a ruinous romance, lyrics offer a gimlet-eyed post-mortem: “I guess I half expected some kind of apology, at least an explanation for disappearing so suddenly/But isn’t that the way life goes, sometimes, you fall in love, you lose your confidence for someone who doesn’t give a fuck, someone who can’t shut up.” On the break, moody saxophone runs linger like chem trails, clearing away the emotional cobwebs, leading to a final epiphany: “Maybe that was just what I needed to do, to find my way to you, Baby, someone who’s confident that I’m the one they want, that I’m the one they love.”
The song neatly folds into the instrumental apologia of “Forgiveness,” which serves as a musical palate-cleanser for “Beauty 62.” Tentative and tender, this one unspools slowly, as petulant piano notes dart between wily guitars, angular bass and a hopscotch beat. Cryptic lyrics walk a tightrope between unrequited desire and mutual attraction: “Woman of the valley, golden ring in your eye, caramel coffee watching you alchemist, that untouchable feeling, impossible color of your hair, shiny, shiny silver threads, I’d follow you anywhere.” Duffy’s vocals stack at the sublime chorus: “So that’s what we do with all of this beauty now,” ahead of a vroom-y guitar solo that uncoils on the break. The sylphlike soundscape echoes a bit of Pet Sounds pulchritude. It washes over the extended instrumental outro where guitars slash and spiral, rev and retreat.
The two tracks that close the record, “Quiet Summer” and “Living Proof” end proceedings on a subdued note. On the former, airy keys wrap around clandestine piano notes, bendy guitars, elastic bass lines and an industrial thunk. As the books close on a waning romance, the bittersweet is approached with diplomacy and finesse: “When you’re waking in your pretty house, dreams painted fresh upon your brow, don’t you wish that we could laugh about it now, my baby, all the twisted ways love let us down, but Honey, life will keep unfolding, and my door has stayed open, time just keeps on flowing, like the universe, the ocean, on this quiet summer night.” Opaque guitars tangle with gossamer keys on the break, hitting that happy/sad sweet spot, aching in all the right ways. It’s the delicate art of the letting go.
The latter is a tender benediction that surrenders to fate. The bare-bones arrangement is matched by lachrymose piano notes. The melancholy melody shares some musical DNA with Neil Young’s epochal “Helpless,” and Rickie Lee Jones’ distingue torch song, “Company.” Lyrics zag where they’re expected to zig, painting a portrait of strength and solitude: “There is no end to the consequence, there is no end to the innocence, there is no way out, there is only through, there is no good reason for the things we do/Like rain upon the asphalt, your mother calling you an asshole, I never knew what love could do.” It’s a powerful finish to a watershed record.
These days, Duffy characterizes Hand Habits as a band effort. This feels wholly apropos, since the album relies on the talents of Joseph Lorge, Tim Carr, Alan Wyffels, Remy Morrit, Patrick Kelly, Gregory Uhlmann, Jenny Wasser, Daniel Aged, Benny Bock, Rose Droll, Myra Flock, Josh Johnson, Ella Feingold, Marina Allen, Anna Butters and Olive Kaplan. They also received a couple of superstar assists from Dawes drummer Griffin Goldsmith and L.A.’s favorite polymath, Blake Mills.
Blue Reminder takes a great leap forward, revealing something new with each spin. Years from now, when someone asks what 2025 was like, the sweetest answer lies between the grooves of this transformative record.
