In the dim glow of a Brooklyn bar, over what was likely one too many whiskeys, E.W. Harris—Crown Heights’ self-styled “folktronica polymath”—accepted a dare that would birth his latest EP, Machine Living in Relief. The challenge? To craft a fully acoustic record about robots and AI. The result? A ramshackle, poignant, and strangely human six-song collection that merges dusty folk intimacy with sci-fi existentialism, set in Harris’ sprawling “romantic dystopia” of Rocket City.
Machine Living in Relief is the latest chapter in Harris’ five-album saga exploring Rocket City—a post-apocalyptic New York, 250 years in the future, where skyscrapers are replaced by abandoned rockets that never launched. Think Blade Runner meets Inside Llewyn Davis, with a twist of Woody Guthrie strumming for malfunctioning androids.
Harris, ever the wry storyteller, leans into the absurdity: “Folk music is already great for depression and anxiety. Now imagine it sung by robots.” The EP’s characters—lonely cyborgs, fragmented AIs, and mechanical drifters—grapple with questions of identity, addiction, and what it means to be “whole” in a world where humanity is more glitch than gospel.
Musically, the EP is a lo-fi gem—warm, wiry, and deliberately imperfect. Harris’ fingerpicked guitar, wheezing harmonica, and creaky vocals evoke a campfire hootenanny on a spaceship’s rusted hull. There’s no electronica here—just “people-made” textures that paradoxically breathe life into these non-human narrators.
The songs don’t answer these questions—they revel in them, spinning yarns that feel both ancient and eerily prescient in our age of AI anxiety and digital isolation. Harris describes Rocket City as his “Star Wars expanded universe”—a playground for misfits and mechanical poets. With each release, the world grows richer, and Machine Living in Relief suggests spin-off potential: a sad-eyed android troubadour, a whiskey-drinking repair droid, or a hologram hitchhiker could all headline their own EPs.
Having toured the U.S. and Europe with his “intergalactic smuggler’s” ethos, Harris refuses to stand still artistically. This EP is both a return to roots (acoustic, narrative-driven) and a leap forward (deeper into his dystopian mythos).
Machine Living in Relief is weird, wonderful, and oddly comforting—like a shot of bourbon with a chaser of quantum physics. Harris’ trademark wit and restless creativity shine, proving that the best folk songs aren’t always about humans. Connect With E.W. Harris on Instagram and Spotify
