Eleanor Buckland Pens Powerful Lines on Heartbreak and Hope on ‘You Don’t Have to Know’

One of the highlights of Shame and Sedition, the Lula Wiles album released last May, was Eleanor Buckland’s unsettling “The Way That It Is,” a love lament so bitterly despairing it seemed like a genuine cry for help. Now, taking a break from the New England trio for her first solo project, Buckland delivers more harrowing reflections on the gripping You Don’t Have to Know. Despite the emotional torments she portrays so vividly, she still finds reason to carry on.

Featuring a big assist from Adam Iredale-Gray, who produces (having produced Lula Wiles’ 2016 debut with the band), co-wrote most of the songs with Buckland, and plays shiny electric guitar, this moving album discovers power in restraint. The smooth folk-pop melodies unfold without undue embellishment, focusing on Buckland’s elegant voice. Poised and solemn, she crafts first-person vignettes of damaged romance and crushing self-doubt with a striking composure that suggests she won’t be consumed by her problems.

The dramatic opening track, “Don’t Look Down,” sets the tone for You Don’t Have to Know with a story of struggle and indifferent fate, only to retreat from the brink, exclaiming, “I don’t know where I let myself get lost, but I’ll find my way again” in a catchy ode to resilience.

Elsewhere, Buckland engages in unsparing soul-searching. Driven by an urgent groove, “Static” sees her wrestling with shame and “looking for a reason to run away” as she pursues elusive truth. In the gentle “October,” Buckland confesses to being “a bit of a mess” and “closed off,” haunted by a goodbye letter and “three words I wish I never said.” Her matter-of-fact delivery gives the song a compelling believability.

Buckland expresses empathy for others in the same boat. On “Call Me Up,” she gently consoles a friend who’s been “taking it rough,” observing, “I don’t know why you’re trying to do it all on your own.” Here and throughout the album, specific images — bells ringing in the square, boats on a river — create the feel of short stories drawn from life. In the languid “Wishing Is Useless” Buckland reaches across the divide between Lake Ontario and New Jersey to comfort a downcast ex-lover.

However disappointing, love remains irresistible. In the woozy “Resignation,” Buckland insists, “I’m not mad that you don’t want me / I knew it wasn’t a guarantee,” and revisits heartbreak in “Just Love,” sighing, “Don’t tell me you’re sorry, I already know … It was just love after all,” shrouded in lingering anger. Remarkably, Buckland’s protagonist is willing to take another chance; the toe-tapping “How Fast, How Far” celebrates the thrill of a new encounter, even as she concludes glumly, “No, we won’t last.”

After all the angst, the majestic title track closes the album on a surprising note. Buoyed by soaring synth and jagged guitar, she asks a troubled friend (or maybe herself), “How are you ever gonna keep your heart sober? And shake your ghosts? … You don’t have to know,” implying the dark night will surely pass somehow. Eleanor Buckland’s bracing blend of beautiful songs and perceptive honesty, seasoned with a dash of hope, is ultimately reassuring, and a little uplift is always welcome.