Jak Lizard has never been an artist content to stay in one lane. Across three albums, the genre-blurring singer-songwriter has carved out a space where indie rock, lo-fi pop, folk, soul and Americana coexist, with deeply personal storytelling at the centre of it all. On Vulnerable Forms, he leans further into that emotional honesty, crafting a record that explores heartbreak, identity and growth through intimate songwriting and richly layered production.
It’s an album that feels both expansive and deeply human, embracing vulnerability not as weakness but as a source of strength. As Jak Lizard continues to refine his ever-evolving sound, Vulnerable Forms stands as his most assured and emotionally resonant work to date.
For 1883 Magazine, Jak Lizard has penned a track-by-track guide to each song on the record.
‘Heatwave’
Looking back now, it’s only right that Heatwave is track no. 1 on the album. Like a true slice of fate, this was the first ever idea tracked with my producer and songwriting partner Kory Burrell. We actually made it, in entirety, the first night we met. We certainly had no idea at the time, what it was the start of, but it all make sense now. Just like it being the beginning of the album, it was the beginning of our story together as friends. It was the start to such an important relationship, one where I have a brother who’s there to help me sift through all these dense feelings and questions that eventually become crystal clear stories through the music.
I already hate how little Kory will be name-checked throughout this, because it should occur around every other sentence. Kory Burrell, I’m so glad we found each other.“Vulnerable Forms” is about a breakup with my first true love. It’s a Queer album, it’s a reflection album. “Heatwave” is a face-value heartbreak introduction. It’s illustrating my perspective during an era of things fading. I tried holding on for so long, and the the figurative room I was keeping my heart in, was getting hotter by the second.
‘Crazy Bitch’
I’ve always considered myself to be a levelheaded and peaceful romantic. I can faintly remember thinking (in regards to relationships), I could never be the “crazy” or “jealous ex”. That was until I officially experienced my first true love and then one year later, my first true heartbreak. The desperate and hyperbolic text essays I sent to this man… The late nights I spent spiraling and praying for my reality to change.
I forever will feel embarrassed about some of the ways I acted and some of the things I said. There was a time where I couldn’t even bring myself to admitting how distraught and dizzy I was; but after a little time, I wrapped my head around it, and started to not feel proud, but at peace with that total lack of peace. “Crazy Bitch”, is about me. It’s not me, but it’s the self-awareness of knowing it has been me, and that’s an aspect of the journey inward that rather than try to forget, I choose to hold it close, and have some gratitude that I hopped out of that mindset.
‘Flip Flop’
Back in my former relationship, we had a group of friends that my ex was skeptical of to say the least. One specific commentary on them was that they were coming across as fake or as posers. They acted one way and talked another, there were flip flops. We’d be thrifting for clothes and talking about how some folks are all too curated in their aesthetic, cos-playing a life apart from their truth. At the time, I felt so attacked. I wanted my partner to like who I liked. Upon reflection, I still like those friends; but also, there were finer points in the critique of people in general, that are to this day, well taken. It’s hard to see the points being made by someone who’s leaving you, point blank. It’s a prideful frustration that makes you defend the unnecessary, and lose site of the desired. I am myself a flip flop. I’m aware of my faults; they sober me up. But I’m honest enough to not tell you, that I don’t always love thinking about them.
‘Not Benny’s Song’
A huge highlight of my relationship was writing songs with my, then boyfriend. I had never in my life, experienced the unfiltered joy of enacting your passion with someone you are passionate about. It made it all the more painful, when we were no longer together, and I still had a handful of songs I wrote with him just sitting on my computer.
I don’t know if those songs will ever come out, but this song is out; and it’s about owning a bit of pettiness and certainly a lot of sadness and anger. I’m pissed this didn’t work out. I’m sad those demos don’t represent a future I once thought was likely.
There were so many “love songs” that I thought were being created, alas, none of them can be the love songs I had hoped for, if you were making them with someone on their way out.
‘Aww’
My ode to lust, longing, and jealousy. Speaking quite candidly, I was dating someone I was incredibly, physically attracted to. Post breakup, there was an era where I kept finding myself searching for someone who, I hate to say it, looked like that person. It’s not where I am at anymore, but man, that’s a sorry feeling.
‘Ceiling Walker’
A short interlude of sorts. Just a brief moment inside the mind of someone grappling with love-loss.
‘Scared Of This Honesty’
The one time on the record, where I’m describing events that occurred with a different person. This song is overall, about how hurt people do in fact hurt people. I went from chasing a person and craving answers, to the one who was running away from someone doing the same. When you get your heart broken, do yourself and everyone else a favor, stay inside for a minute.
‘Good Kid Charlie’
The emotional, heartbreak ballad and/or anthem of the album. Might use some flowery language, but it’s pretty literal. Some people wanna be set free. We all do in different ways, honestly. We’re all capable of hurting people. Talk all you want about villains, even the good guys can do some harm. This song is particularly special to me because I’ve technically had it in my head since I was 13 years old. It was around then time when I first picked up a guitar and, no lie, the chords to “GKC” were some of the first I ever started toying with in any kind of sense of order or structure.
I must’ve played around with this tune for a decade and a half before I finally had the story to tell and the lyrics to pare. There’s something unbelievably magical about that. This song was written by one version of myself and competed by another. Lowkey some Gemini Moon shit; lol.
‘Punchcard’
The song that’s about the long goodbye of a partner needing to leave, but not knowing how to fully do so. It’s about how actions start speaking much louder than words. ‘Punchcard’ is a song sung by someone sitting in an empty and growing emptier by the week, apartment, which was once filled with the artefacts of a relationship.
‘County Fair’
To me, this song encapsulates together, everything I was exploring with this album. It’s essentially the thesis for my paper on irreverent melancholy. I was in love, it was unrequited, that’s sad and aggravating.
Right. I changed my whole life for someone who didn’t really care. Fuck. I would’ve done anything for them, been anybody. Bad. But, wait a minute. Not the worst, in my opinion.
It’s ok to feel deeply. It’s ok to strive for connection. I may have done some bending out of any natural form recognizable to myself, but you can’t say I didn’t try. I’m passionate, and I’ll go the distance for love. The album’s called
‘Vulnerable Forms’
I think the biggest, most vulnerable admission of this whole record comes through on “County Fair.” There’s a part of me that will forever and always be begging for my first real love to return and to become again.
In so many ways, I am forever in a desperate search for something I got a blistering and blinding taste of. We’ll be lucky if we ever come across someone in our lives who makes us wanna be “everything and everywhere.”
