There is a stretch of Texas highway, just outside Marfa, that now bears Jess Williamson’s name. She recently adopted it, an act of commitment to the beloved arts haven, a place she’s been spiritually stewarding through her songwriting for years now. At the start of making her latest album, A Mile South of Heaven, she was ready to set out for those Marfa lights and leave her adopted Los Angeles behind for good. Williamson had already been living between the two places like a child of divorce, the marathon solo treks like songwriting retreats. But it led her back to where she started, the way only art has the power to do, with a renewed appreciation for what each place can uniquely give her. Produced by Shooter Jennings, A Mile South of Heaven explores the tensions beyond just the push and pull of two places. Williamson is also torn between stoking the embers of ambition and pulling back to something quieter, less heartbreaking than chasing a dream.
Somewhere around 2020’s Sorceress, Williamson really began singing with her full chest, tuning into all the gorgeous little intricacies of her voice. It can sound hazy and haunted (“Hum of the City”), then rich and weepy (“Legends Die”), and in a saucy twang complemented by instrumentation and harmonies from Bonnie and Eleanor Whitmore, Williamson has never sounded better than she does now. Each song is a love letter to a different version of herself that comes out when she’s on stage, in a roadside motel, behind the wheel, in the city, in the country, a few drinks deep. “I’m not a perfect woman,” she sings, all weary honesty, on the title track. “But this time, I’m tryin’.”
