Harrison Lipton - Between Us There Runs a Tether
- Samuel Stevens
- May 6
- 3 min read
With Between Us There Runs a Tether, out May 7, 2025, via AMUSE, New York soft-rock auteur Harrison Lipton returns not just with a sophomore album, but with a soul-bearing statement on healing, heartbreak, and identity. It’s a record that could have disappeared into the abyss of what-ifs, born from a 2021 breakup that sent Lipton driving cross-country, untethered and unsure. But instead, it materialized as a sprawling emotional landscape rooted in introspection, steeped in '70s soft-rock warmth, and grounded by a sense of community.
Where 2018’s Loveliness introduced Lipton as a lush-voiced R&B-influenced songwriter, Between Us There Runs a Tether finds him leaning into the dusty romanticism of artists like Jackson Browne and George Harrison, reframed through a contemporary indie lens. The result is a record that feels deeply lived-in, weathered but glowing.
The opening track, “On My Own,” sets the tone with hushed resolve and a quiet exhale of solitude that doesn’t mourn loneliness but almost welcomes it. This sense of calm contemplation runs through the whole album, even as the lyrics shift between regret and redemption. Tracks like “Letters” and “Nothing Holy” dissect emotional fallout with a tenderness that never veers into melodrama. Lipton is not begging for reconciliation—he’s turning the pages of his story, even the ones he’d rather forget.
Standout track “Tether,” which features singer-songwriter Yot Club, blends melancholia with a subtle groove, channelling Lipton’s signature hushed falsetto over synth-laced dream-pop textures. It’s a wistful centrepiece, reaching for connection even as the rope frays. And later on, the album, “Do You Hate Me?” poses a raw question most wouldn’t dare say aloud, delivered with understated urgency that recalls Andy Shauf or early Sufjan Stevens.
The emotional axis of the entire album all lies within “All For Granted,” written in one take, while holding back tears at his family piano in Connecticut—it's a song so honest it feels like you’re intruding while you listen. Yet Lipton’s genius is in the way he invites you to sit with him, never wallowing, but always processing.
But the arc doesn’t end in sorrow. The final track of the album, “The End of the Line,” is a quiet triumph—both musically and thematically. It echoes the album’s title phrase for a second time, but this time with a quiet resolution: “I chose the open road / and I’m alone again.” It’s not just about letting go of a person, but about releasing the version of yourself that clung too tightly to what hurt.
Production-wise, Lipton remained in full control, writing and producing the album entirely by himself. The engineering from Ian Bakerman and mixing by Steve Vealey help strike a balance between intimacy and sonic breadth, while Théo Quayle’s mastering ensures everything glows with analog richness. Subtle strings, brushed drums, and shimmering guitar lines elevate the project beyond bedroom pop into something more cinematic.
It’s also a deeply communal record despite its solitary themes. Cameos from Yot Club and MICHELLE’s Layla Ku, plus contributions from friends like Ian Bakerman and Aidan Ludlam (booyah! kids), cement Lipton’s place in the NYC indie underground. The upcoming release show at Brooklyn’s Public Records—featuring Fetch Tiger and Sofia D’Angelo—feels less like a concert and more like a homecoming.
Ultimately, Between Us There Runs a Tether is not just about what connects us to others—it’s about what connects us to ourselves through time. It’s a panoramic view of the late 20s experience: grief, self-doubt, growth, and the quiet resilience to move forward. The record is a patient, poetic soft-rock gem. Harrison Lipton proves that sometimes the best way to heal is to sing it all out, slowly and softly.
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