Back in My Body

Gentler and more inward than much of her debut album's material, "Back in My Body" moves with a slow, tide-like swell of synthesizers that feel almost oceanic in their texture. Rogers produced much of this sound herself, and here that craftsmanship registers as warmth — layers that could feel cold in lesser hands instead feel like weighted blankets, like physical comfort rendered in audio. Her voice sits low and close in the mix during the verses, intimate as a whisper to yourself in a mirror. The song addresses dissociation — the numbing that follows trauma or overextension — and the gradual, deliberate process of re-inhabiting your own skin. "Back in my body" functions as mantra and exhale simultaneously. There's a spiritual undertone rooted in Rogers' interest in folk tradition and communal healing; the song would not be out of place around a bonfire, stripped of its electronics. The chorus builds with careful restraint, never exploding, always holding. It's music for yoga classes that actually move something in you, for long baths, for the early weeks of recovery from anything — the body learning again that it is home.