There’s something wonderfully reassuring about an album that understands you can love where you’re going without pretending you’ve forgotten where you came from. On Island Girl Reflections II, Rachel Haymer turns that idea into a warm, adventurous, and deeply personal collection of songs that feels like equal parts postcard, diary entry, and love letter to every version of herself.
The acclaimed singer-songwriter and ukulelist has lived a life that stretches from Honolulu to New York City, with plenty of unexpected stops in between, and you can hear all of it here. Island Girl Reflections II picks up where its predecessor left off, but this time, Haymer isn’t asking whether she made the right decision by leaving Hawaii. She’s realizing that she never really left it behind.
That push and pull between island roots and big-city life gives the album much of its charm. Haymer has clearly become a New Yorker, but Hawaii remains in her musical DNA, and rather than choosing between the two, she lets them happily coexist. Folk storytelling, reggae rhythms, classical influences, island warmth, and some impressively sophisticated harmonies all find their way into the mix. And yes, the ukulele is along for the ride—but anyone expecting predictable strumming-around-the-campfire fare is in for a surprise. Haymer treats the instrument like a genuine songwriting tool, stretching it into musical territory that feels far more expansive than its reputation might suggest.
One of the album’s most delightful moments comes with Solo Rollo Soho, which finds Haymer wandering Manhattan after her phone dies. In 2026, that’s practically a survival thriller. But instead of panicking, she leans into the freedom of it, trusting her instincts and finding her way through the city without a glowing screen telling her where to turn. It’s playful on the surface, but underneath is a pretty lovely metaphor: Haymer may live in one of the most technologically dependent cities on Earth, but the island girl still knows how to navigate by feel.
That same easygoing wisdom runs through Summer Coney Island, a breezy reminder that life tends to get more interesting when we stop trying to micromanage every outcome. New Daylight, meanwhile, turns its attention toward faith, manifestation, and the decision to remain hopeful even when circumstances aren’t cooperating. Haymer’s optimism works because it never feels oblivious. She isn’t arguing that life is easy; she’s suggesting that joy can be a choice even when it isn’t.
But Island Girl Reflections II isn’t all sunshine and boardwalks. Some of its strongest moments arrive when Haymer allows the record to become more vulnerable.
Love Song for the Disconnected Child, inspired by her work within the disability and inclusion community, is particularly tender. Written for children who have felt unseen, misunderstood, or somehow outside the circle, it taps into something much bigger than its title. Who hasn’t, at some point, wondered whether they belonged?
Then there’s The Adventure, which looks back on Haymer’s time living in Germany and a passionate relationship that ultimately ended in devastating loss. It adds another layer to an album already preoccupied with the strange ways places and people remain inside us long after we’ve moved on. Till the Morning Come brings things even closer, exploring intimacy and vulnerability with an openness that makes it one of the record’s most quietly affecting moments.
Rather Have You, co-written with Rory Michelle Sullivan, carries another meaningful connection to Haymer’s past. Featuring the unmistakable sound of Hawaiian steel guitar, the song incorporates an idea championed by the late Uncle Joe Espinda, a Hawaiian elder and respected reggae keyboardist who encouraged Haymer musically. Knowing that Espinda was able to hear the finished album before his passing gives the song—and the record itself—an added emotional weight.
Musically, this may be Haymer’s most interesting collection yet. Her influences are wonderfully all over the map in the best possible way: Joni Mitchell and Carole King sit comfortably alongside Sergei Rachmaninoff, while reggae artists like Fiji and J Boog bring another vocabulary entirely. On paper, that combination sounds like it might require traffic control. In Haymer’s hands, it makes perfect sense.
Part of that adventurousness comes from experimentation. Through weekly improvisational sessions with her band ManaTones, Haymer began breaking herself out of familiar songwriting habits and chasing melodies wherever they wanted to go. You can hear that curiosity throughout the album. Songs unfold naturally rather than feeling forced into a formula, and there’s a looseness to the record that suits its larger message about trusting life enough to see where it takes you.
It also makes perfect sense coming from an artist whose career has never followed the conventional route. Haymer has performed everywhere from concert halls and international festivals to houses of worship, memory care communities, and New York City subway platforms. As the woman behind The Ukulele Time Machine, she’s spent years turning familiar pop songs into communal singalongs for commuters at Grand Central, Times Square, Rockefeller Center, and beyond. That ability to meet people exactly where they are carries over beautifully into her original music.
And ultimately, that’s what makes Island Girl Reflections II so likable. For all its musical ambition and autobiographical detail, it never feels self-important. Haymer is telling her own story, but she leaves plenty of room for listeners to find themselves inside it.
The album understands something that usually takes a little living to figure out: moving forward doesn’t require becoming a completely different person. We collect places. We collect people. We collect heartbreaks, adventures, subway rides, summers, songs, and tiny pieces of every home we’ve ever known.
Rachel Haymer has simply figured out how to put hers to music.
Island Girl Reflections II is warm, curious, hopeful, occasionally heartbreaking, and full of personality—a record for anyone who has ever left home only to discover that home came along for the ride.
Listen to the album on Spotify here
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