Elyse Miller - Paperdoll

Blink and you might miss one of the twelve short, sparsely instrumented songs on Elyse Miller’s new disc, as most last two minutes or less. But Miller packs a lot of punch into these brief, slow-paced numbers, usually accompanied only by acoustic guitar. It’s a fair bet that several songs will get stuck in your head after just one listen.

Miller’s sweet, drawn-out vocal on the lullaby-like “New Love,” captures the obsessive need to spend every moment with a new crush and the intense physical lust that accompanies it: “can’t keep the bedclothes up/can’t keep your clothes on.” The simple, lilting “I Want to Love You” is so pure musically that you may miss its mischievous tone at first: “I want to love you on a hilltop meadow/it may be breaking the law/but baby it’s dark/no one has to know.” The potentially creepy lyrics are rendered playful through Miller’s plaintive delivery.

Guitar and vocal are more strident on “What We Teach,” in which Miller bemoans children’s desensitization to violence. The disturbing “Kinderwhore,” which sounds like a schoolyard chant sung by a pedophile, is essentially a long, leering description of a young girl, from her pig tails and nail polish to her bubble gum. The sense of menace implied is unsettling. The lyrics are all the more jarring for Miller’s singsong delivery. Miller shows the most emotion on “Paperdoll,” detailing the lengths women go to in order to fit into the dominant cult of beauty. She decries the constant societal pressure and “the driving mania/to be as thin and as smooth/and as shallow as paper.” It’s a valid but depressing song, as it ends with the narrator being torn in two.

Miller has a way with both words and music, and her interest in social issues and playful sense of humor shine through on Paperdoll.

Review by Karen Duda

Jeremy Jay – Splash

K Records

I spent a few years as a DJ for the college radio station during graduate school, and quickly learned that the fastest, most accurate way to asses if you’ll like an album is to pay attention to the label. If you really dig a band, it’s worth your time to research the label that produces their albums–chances are it will be home to other artists you’ll enjoy. Such is the case for K Records, distributed by Secretly Canadian, and home to some of my favorites like anti-folk heroine Kimya Dawson, dance-pop loveliness The Blow, and low-fi folk rocker Jason Anderson.

It is easy to hear how pop-folk artist Jeremy Jay found a home at K, but if the aforementioned artists are seniors at the top of their class, Jay is a freshman with plenty of room for improvement jotted in his report card. Though Splash is Jay’s third release on K, at just over twenty-five minutes, it plays more like a debut EP. One song is no more diverse or interesting than the last; I was in the middle of track three before I realized the album had played all the way through and was on its second rotation. The album’s title conjures images of excitement and disruption that would be more fitting for an artist poised to make waves. But Jeremy Jay is not that artist.

Every song reflected the influence of another musician, but never did I get a feel for Jay’s own unique voice or style. “Just Dial My Number” is an upbeat, summer ditty but the use of piano is so similar to Peter Bjorn and John’s “Young Ones,” that every time it played I thought I was hearing the latter. There are moments when he channels Morrissey; I even heard a little Tracy Chapman on “Someday Somewhere.” But the most notable comparison is to Magnetic Fields front man, Stephin Merritt. But whereas Merritt’s distinctive bass subtly demands you to pay attention to his lyrics, Jay’s more delicate timbre only adds to the ambiguity of his songwriting.

While he certainly evokes the mood of agenda-free days of exploring the city, the lack of imagery and individuality leaves Splash too malleable to make an impression. It would serve well as a soundtrack to a film where visual images and plot might add some heft and dimension to his sound.

Review by Alicia Sowisdral

Corrin Campbell - Game Night

Corrin Campbell is a Wisconsin native who enlisted in the US Army shortly after graduating high school. A combat-vet and former member of the 1st Calvary Division, Campbell trained at the Armed Forces School of Music in Norfolk, Virginia, before beginning her career with the Army Materiel Command Band. As a US Army trained bassist, Campbell has performed for troops around the world before joining forces with her current band, The Election, to create and perform original music. Unfortunately, Campbell’s biography is more interesting than her music.

Game Night is fourteen tracks of high energy, rock complete with grating guitar, wrenching vocals and the occasional pop-infused number. Campbell has drawn comparisons to Heart, a band she is said to idolize, and while the similarity is apparent, so is the irrelevance. Pioneers of female fronted bands, backed by aggressive, guitar driven rock, Heart was at the height of their career in the late seventies and into the eighties. Their last commercially successful album was 1987’s Bad Animals and the current generation is likely more familiar with Fergie’s cover of “Barracuda” than Heart’s original recording.

The Wilson sisters also feature as inspirations, but Campbell’s efforts are way more imitation than influence. Though some might view this as nostalgic, it is more aptly described as dated. Game Night would be more accessible if Campbell had succeeded in breathing new life into a sound she finds inspiring, rather than attempting to re-create it.

Laden with pastiche notwithstanding, Campbell is clearly invested in her craft, utilizing her songwriting to explore her experiences over the years. As she states on her website, “These songs are my attempts to be true through the trials of life and find a healthier way to get through these personal complications.” In a world full of man-made pop idols, Campbell deserves recognition for creating music she loves, with people she respects and on her own terms.

Review by Alicia Sowisdral

Eliza Blue - The Road Home

When I opened my package containing Eliza Blue’s album The Road Home, I was greeted with a little bit of Southern hospitality; the CD was wrapped in a piece of twine and included a hand-written note saying, “Thanks for listening, hope you enjoy!” I felt comforted by that note. It was a little wave “hello” from home, and more than that, a connection between artist and audience. When I popped in the CD, I was immediately drawn in and stopped whatever inconsequential thing I was doing at the moment. The soothing meandering of a folksy style met with the bluegrass accoutrements of banjo, fiddle, and guitar, but it was Blue’s voice that made me pause.

Blue’s voice is smooth, with something deeper, thicker and something nostalgic—an old yellowed book sitting in afternoon sunlight, a glass of sweet iced tea, and for me, the sound of home. Her intonation and velvety middle range are reminiscent of Allison Kraus, but her tone is darker and earthier than Kraus’ ethereal sounds. I found myself playing this album on loop for days on end, getting lost in her voice. “Oceans & Fields” and “Mending Fences” were lovely in their acoustic melancholy, in the pizzicato ostinato and weeping duets of violins. “Gospel Song” pays tribute to the religious origins of old time, bluegrass, and country. I could spend more time describing the pieces, which are finely crafted, but I, for once, had difficulty capturing the aural experience in words without sounding contrived and thus doing the album injustice.

Eliza Blue is a versatile and pioneering artist; many of the instrumentals are played by Blue, and all songs are original compositions. It is a self-produced, self-promoted album to boot; this is actually her third album to date, having already garnered much attention in the Minneapolis area. This bluegrass/folk amalgamation is a beautiful accomplishment, an album of thoughtful, layered pieces where the lyrics and instrumentals are equally captivating.

Review by Cristin Colvin

Carole King – The Essential Carole King

Legacy Recordings

Were you to take a random sampling of the average music listener and say to them: “Quick, hum a few bars of 'One Fine Day.' Now, "(You Make Me Feel) Like A Natural Woman.' Great. Now who wrote them?" Chances are most people could belt out the entire tune for you right on the spot but few would be able to identify Carole King as the songwriter.

Partially, this phenomenon has to do with how we view musicians. We love the sparkly, charismatic lead singer but care less about the bass player keeping the beat, and even less about the person who created the music in the first place. Celebrity culture loves performers, not writers. But this also has to do with what we think of songwriters when we do give them a few moments consideration. The average Joe you had asked about the songwriter might take a stab at it: Bernie Taupin? Neil Diamond? Not many of us can pinpoint who wrote the pop songs we love, but we often assume it’s a man behind the curtain.

This collection will blow you away. The Essential Carole King is divided into The Singer and The Songwriter giving us a huge sampling of King’s catalogue. The first CD is perfect reflective, comforting music to turn on after a long day at work. Admittedly, songs like "The Reason" (yes, a duet with Celine Dion) and "Sweet Seasons" cross the line into “easy listening” and make you wonder if King was just sort of churning out radio-friendly tunes. But hey, we’ve all got to make a pay check. Not to worry, classics like "I Feel the Earth Move" and "You’ve Got A Friend" are the bread and butter of this collection, a perfect compilation of unpretentious well-crafted lyrics and unique but catchy piano riffs.

If anything, the problem with this album is that The Songwriter CD can’t quite match the genius of the songs Carole performs herself. The dated-high pitched Monkees singing "Pleasant Valley Sunday" seem sort of silly after listening to "It’s Too Late," and The Everly Brothers crying in the rain isn’t anywhere as authentic as King singing "So Far Away." None the less, there are a lot of good quality songs here that most of us have heard on the radio a million times. Dusty Springfield’s "No Easy Way Down" is a welcome rediscovery.

Any serious music lover should own this collection. Next time you attend a wedding and "The Loco-Motion" inevitably comes on, you can shimmy up to your fellow dancers and remind them this song was written by a female song-writing legend.

Review by Jennifer Burgess

Rachael Sage - Delancey Street

MPress Records

On her ninth record, Delancey Street, Rachael Sage once again embraces and pushes the boundaries of her signature sound: lush piano-based pop with plenty of passion and insightful lyrics. Each song tells a distinct story, capturing a moment in time (even if the meanings are sometimes ambiguous).

The enigmatic “Everything Was Red” is one of my favorite tracks, although I’d be hard pressed to tell you what it’s about. “I was just a girl / who fell in love with Judy / Everything was red / It was never just her shoes,” Sage sings. Okay, red shoes and Judy: is she alluding to Judy Garland in The Wizard of Oz? However, the rest of the song is about a deep and possibly codependent relationship, with the narrator selflessly trying to be everything her friend needs. “I’m willing to begin anew / I’m willing to be a sister to you/ I’m willing to be the wiser one.” The virtue of a great Rachael Sage song, though, is that you can enjoy the melody and wordplay without knowing the exact meaning of the words.

Sage has a tongue-in-cheek song on most of her albums, and this disc’s entry, “Big Star,” doesn’t disappoint. “Do you wanna be a big star? / It’s okay to say yes, yes, yes, yes, yes,” she chant/sings, then goes on to list what is expected of a pop star in terms of appearance and behavior: “You gotta stay skinny / You gotta grow tall / You gotta fight your enemies / You gotta fight friends / You gotta fight depression when the whole shit ends.” The song boasts strong syncopation, guitar with reverb (rather unusual for Sage as her music is usually centered around the piano), drawn-out vocals, and a touch of organ, making it a musical standout in this collection.

The slow, twangy guitar that opens “Meet Me in Vegas” lends it a country feel, and Sage employs breathy, high, and languorous vocals on a song about yearning to save a relationship that appears to be nearing its end. Strings augment the feeling. “Back to Earth” is the troubling tale of a friend who has metaphorically disappeared. The source of the friend’s remoteness is unclear (depression? a cult or new group of friends?), but the helpless frustration of the friend left behind is clear.

“Arrow” starts with Sage’s trademark scatting and features prominent horns and soaring strings. It’s a rebuke to those who would prescribe the requirements for an artist’s life. Despite her anger at those who try to dictate the way she should live, the song is upbeat and has joyous lyrics with vocals alternating between soft on the refrain and loud and almost strident on verses.

The album features two covers, the Hall & Oates hit “Rich Girl” and Irene Cara's film theme “Fame.” It’s a revelation to see how another artist’s interpretation can change the implied meaning of a song, and Sage makes both tracks her own. The difference is most apparent on “Fame,” which she transforms into a slow, torchy ballad that barely resembles the original.

For fans, Delancey Street delivers the great musicianship and creative lyrics we’ve come to expect from Sage along with a couple surprises. For those new to her music, it’s a great place to jump in and start exploring.

Review by Karen Duda

Steff Mahan - Never a Long Way Home

MPress Records

Confession: I don’t know much about country music, and I don’t listen to much country music. But I know what I like, and Steff Mahan’s Never a Long Way Home is damn good music.

The opening track, “If I Let You Go,” starts things off rockin’. Mahan bangs away on a distorted guitar while belting out the lyrics. The song is upbeat, but the story isn’t; the narrator can’t let go of a past relationship even though her former lover is with someone new. Now, “sitting in the ashes of what we used to be” she laments her lost relationship but cannot move on because “I still believe you’ll be coming back for me.” Despite the unrealistic sentiment, the fabulous hooks and passionate vocals pulled me into the song.

“Can’t Hurt Me Anymore” is a toe-tapper about strength and recovery; an understated violin mixes seamlessly with the strumming guitar. Besides being a great song musically, it’s a welcome change to hear a country song about a woman standing up for herself rather than the waiting for her one true love or wallowing in pity. “I survived you because I finally found my truth / you can’t hurt me any more,” Mahan sings with pride.

The title track has an honest to goodness country feel and allows Mahan to demonstrate her talent for storytelling. She tells three vignettes about runaways seeking to return home: a teenage girl who runs away to the city; a husband who leaves a troubled marriage; and a woman on her deathbed. In each instance, the prodigal is welcomed home (to heaven, in the last case). The touching “Carnival Ride” centers on a shy girl’s childhood memories of her father, particularly the piggyback rides he gave her. “He’d spin me around and the world would go by / I swear, man, you could see me fly / we’d fall gently and laugh until we cried.” The slow and reflective, nostalgia-tinged tune aches with sincerity.

“Thought We Were Dancing” is another beautiful song about falling in love and how it can sneak up on us and cause confusion. Mahan succeeds in crafting a song that is romantic but not sappy. The slow and introspective “Save Yourself” is another highlight, full of wonderful imagery that illustrates the rush of infatuation and intimacy at the start of a new romantic relationship. The details are lovely, such as the description of a shared shower: “You draw some hearts on the glass / reach for a towel / and I pull you back.”

The slow-paced “When I Need It Most” is reminiscent of Sheryl Crow’s “Strong Enough” not in musical terms but lyrical content: it’s a plea to be understood and loved despite one’s glaring faults and insecurities. “So I pick fights / and then I shove /… do you love me when I’m scared and when I’m broken? / When words need to be spoken? / Just pull me into you and hold me close / and love me when I need it most.” The prominent violin adds to the ambiance.

Recorded live, the album includes charming snippets of Mahan and her band, as when she exclaims “I just broke a string!” These interjections give us a sense of closeness and gives the album more of a human touch. If you like a no-holds-barred song or a beautiful ballad, chances are you’ll enjoy this album.

Review by Karen Duda

Janyse - The Magic of Think

Magical Voice Productions

Imagine, as a parent, helping your child form a robust and resilient identity and allowing your child to define his or her own values based on his or her own upbringing. Perhaps the gift that follows such acts is an individual with the ability to resist both the conditioning of modern marketing and majoritarian societies and the pressure of some peer groups that may not have his or her own best interests at heart. The Magic Of Think presents a host of artistic lessons designed to encourage our children to take solace and confidence from a remembrance of the uniqueness of their individuality. Singer/songwriter Janyse was inspired by her participation with the Make a Wish Foundation as a part of her role with the hit children’s show Ed, Edd and Eddy.

While listening to the CD, I was able to experience a rare aspect of personal nostalgia in the form of remembering the dreams of my youth, which seem to slip with every passing year. To become UN Secretary-General, write a world-renowned collection of poems, or simply “farm” alternative energy, you name it, the limits of my dreams were only confined by the breadth of my imagination. And I suspect the same is true of my nieces and nephews and of the millions of youngsters across the planet who are more familiar with being united with their peers than any other generation in human history.

Janyse seems to want to remind those adults charged with shaping and nurturing our inheritors that it is not simply the possibility of youth but the revitalized dreams of us who are farther down the path of life that must be cherished and continually maintained. The peppy and upbeat songs on The Magic Of Think deal with courage, friendship, and happiness. These are values and concepts that we, particularly in the Western world a la “the pursuit of happiness” or “the courage to be,” are invoked to cherish early on in our lives.

I will conclude with my personal favorite from the CD, it’s the fourth track entitled “Hero” and its most touching words are: “If I could be somebody, I know who I would be exactly... I would be the hero... find the hero inside.” True, noble wishes and a challenge to us all to ensure that youth strive to do good while remaining faithful to what is most true to them.

Review by Brandon Copeland

Anaïs Mitchell - Hadestown

Righteous Babe Records

Before reviewing the album, I have to admit, Ani Difranco and Justin Vernon of Bon Iver, who are both major contributors to the project, definitely rake up the most counts on my iTunes top played lists. Bias.

That said however, Anaïs Mitchell’s folk opera Hadestown is a masterful album in its own right, originally beginning in 2006 as a live show that toured New England with a cast of twenty-two performers. The show, and now complete album, is an impressive Americana retelling of the Greek myth of Orpheus and Eurydice that evokes a feel of Depression-era America and a doomed future in which all desperately seek to preserve their power, freedom, and riches.

Researching the mythical story a bit so I could understand the compelling narration of the album, I found that it is a love story about Orpheus, a poet who swayed Hades with his beautiful music to bring back his beloved Eurydice from the underworld. As I already alluded to, Mitchell’s ambitious, bold, fourth album is a collaborative project, with the lead singer of Bon Iver as Orpheus (my all-time favorite), Ani DiFranco as Persephone (the strong-willed wife of Hades), Greg Brown as Hades ("king of the kingdom of dirt") and Mitchell as Eurydice, the beautiful young woman seduced into Hades' underworld.

"I recognized in the Orpheus character something a lot of artists feel: his heartbreaking optimism," observes Mitchell. "In the underworld, the rules are the rules, you don’t get a dead person back—but Orpheus believes if he can just sing/play/write something beautiful enough, maybe he can do the impossible, move the heart of stone, get through to someone. I've felt that feeling..." And alas, an incredible album is born, complete with human emotion, social commentary, and an incredibly impressive artistic collaboration.

In general, the lovely Vermont singer-songwriter has a unique, eclectic style all her own, but has definitely been influenced by "the earthiness of Shawn Colvin, the child-like bite of Joanna Newsom, and the urban jumpiness of Ani DiFranco." As this reviewer continues, "These elements, as disparate as they might seem, come together as nicely as cinnamon, cloves, and nutmeg" (Margaret Reges, Allmusic.com). In January 2008, I was actually lucky enough to see Mitchell play shortly after she was taken up by Difranco’s Righteous Babe Records, opening a show for the extraordinary anti-folk goddess herself.

Back to the album, Hadestown is definitely the most creative, inspired folk album I have heard in the past couple years, bringing a fresh perspective to the mythic tradition and timeless themes of power, love and desperation. Listen—to the feature on NPR or buy it—but listen to it all the way through. Even if the Americana style generally doesn’t appeal to you, and I admit it normally doesn’t for me, the inspired and compelling narration, craft, and featured artists on the album come together and truly form something magical.

Review by Abigail Chance

Alejandra O’Leary - Nothing Out Loud

Alejandra O’Leary has released an album of high-quality, well-articulated, catchy pop songs that plumb the depths and the banalities of modern life. Influenced by 1960s British compositions and production, the record is wonderfully warm and the songs are well arranged with fleshed out, but never overdone, instrumentation.

The album begins with the pop-perfect tumult of “Ever After,” “Love I Been In,” and “Tremor.” The lyrics crackle with accessible Ivy League intelligence and innuendo. Sleepless nights and frustrated affairs never sounded so good. On “Ever After” O’Leary laments that she’s “tired of giving you my free labor, no time clock, no nights off, well I hate it,” in a Marxism-infused kiss-off. The tracks are both fiery and reflective and are filled with longing and righteous anger.

The middle of the record moves toward pensive territory and features O’Leary’s voice and guitar playing. While this may be familiar terrain for singer-songwriters, O’Leary’s mastery of the pop hook pushes these tracks beyond the realm of the ordinary. Melodies and choruses stick in your head and you find your self humming a refrain with a feeling of warm satisfaction. Nothing Out Loud picks up again towards the end with the standout “I Love Your Tone,” which could just as easily be an ode to an electric guitar as to a lover. The smart songwriting and arranging on Nothing Out Loud places O’Leary in the company of powerhouses like Liz Phair, Britpoppers Elastica, or even the 1960s country-inflected indie rock of She and Him.

While O’Leary’s song craft may be new to many listeners, she has been writing and performing guitar-based pop for well over a decade. As a teenager she graced the Thursday morning airwaves on Southern Maine community radio appearing as a guest on a friend’s show under the guise of “Guitar Girl.” As a listener and aspiring musician I was always impressed by her bravado to perform live on air. Since then, O’Leary has honed her serious commitment to song writing and used that same bravado to create a playfully mature record.

Review by Eleanor Whitney

Kate Cameron - Conviction

Original Music

As a Southern woman, I've been told from birth that if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all. It's a mentality borne from equal parts charm and suppression, and one that is kind of antithetical to the whole business of review writing. In this case, though, I had to find the nicest thing to say about Massachusetts teen talent Kate Cameron and her debut seven-track EP, Conviction. Otherwise, I would have ended up with an empty review. So, in the name of graciousness and good manners, I finally came up with something.

Cameron seems like a perfectly nice young woman—and therein lies a turn of phrase as loaded as the Chinese curse, “May you live in interesting times.” Whatever their medium, no artist wants to be characterized in such bland terms right out of the gate. They would prefer to be spoken of as distinct, at least, if not as making some viable contribution to their chosen art form. But bless her sweet little heart, Kate Cameron's just not much to write home about—at least not yet.

On MySpace, Cameron lists as her influences a collection of radio-friendly adult contemporary artists from the last fifteen years or so, including Michelle Branch, Joss Stone, Colbie Caillat, and Alicia Keys. That list is a pretty good clue as to what the listener is in for with Conviction. While she shows a great deal of potential as a songwriter, Cameron's lyrics can veer from clever to hokey in a heartbeat. Plus, her developing voice, although decent, still sounds awkward, going out of tune when high notes or any kind of complex vocal gymnastics come into play.

A surefire way to render your song irrelevant is to link it to some topical or temporal event. This turns out to be the biggest mistake in “Big Star.” The song starts off fine, maybe a little generic, but then takes a turn for the worse somewhere around the bridge, where the adolescent artist trots out these ridiculous lyrics: “I'm gonna be a big star/just wait and see/the second I turn eighteen/I'm packing up and leaving.” I will admit, there's something to be said for confidence; however, there's also something to be said for not stamping your opening track with a very limited shelf life.

As an extended metaphor, “The Sun” redeems Cameron with its undeniable charm. “Words I Could Never Say” vacillates between moments of real passion and phoned-in (or even feigned) emotion. “All That You Are” is hammy, overwrought, wannabe radio schlock.

Maybe it's not her fault. The production quality is mediocre at best. The tracks echo and sound tinny even in good headphones, indicating that Cameron either recorded the album in a third-rate studio with poor soundproofing, that her album was engineered by someone with a weak ear, or both. Still, Conviction seems less like a polished sampling of Cameron's finest, and more like a demo reel tossed together at the last minute. With any luck, her music will improve and this release will be relegated to history—or see its tracks re-recorded in better studios with more proficient technicians at the soundboards.

Review by M. Brianna Stallings

Peasant - Shady Retreat

Paper Garden Records

Here’s the dilemma: I like a lot of divergent genres. Living in northern Europe the past eighteen months, I’ve been able to embrace my unabashed love of electronic club music and synthpop. I live in the birthplace of Eurovision, in the land of ABBA. Well, I’m twenty miles south of Sweden, but you get the idea.

My partner and I are making plans to move home within the calendar year, though “home” may become anywhere from NYC to Silicon Valley because he’s a start-up guy looking for funding. On an intercontinental phone call with my Indiana-based best friend the other night, I lamented how much I would miss The Voice, a European answer to what MTV was when it actually played music. I can switch on the appallingly commercial station at almost any hour of the day and catch a mix of Danish bubblegum pop, American hip-hop, and French club music. “When I get back, I’ll have to go back to listening to my college radio cry rock again,” I moaned to my pal, only then fully realizing just how far removed I’d become from the world I’d once inhabited.

To ease back into the idea of being stateside, I’ve been listening to Peasant. A bit more heavy-handed production-wise compared to Damien Derose’s first album, Shady Retreat is an excellent follow-up for folks who dig mellow songwriter jams—or people like me, who have to force themselves back into a once-loved genre.

The opening track, “Thinking,” starts rather abruptly, almost as though the producer meant to fade up the track but got excited at the last minute. Thankfully, other songs make up for the unsettling intro. “Prescriptions” is a cross between mellow folk-rock and a country ballad, complete with the clop-clop horse trotting sound effect in the background. It may be nothing more elaborate than a block being hit with a stick a la elementary school music class, but it produced an endearing, lo-fi quality for a wanna-be country gal like myself. I even felt my own Midwestern instincts kicking back in as I listened to “Into the Woods.” “Don’t go out into the woods,” Derose croons. No joke. I can get behind staying home where it’s safe and warm.

If you think you’re a club kid who hates sad bastard singer-songwriters, think again.

Review by Brittany Shoot

Bitch - Blasted!

Short Story Records

Bitch’s second release, Blasted! is a bona fide labor or love, self-produced and fully funded by her loyal fan-base who labored themselves to the tune of $12,000. A ballsy, creative venture done by a few indie artists thus far, but pays off only for the truly original, passionate ones that appeal to music lovers with equal convictions. Blasted! shines with eclectic blend of electric violin, ukulele and moody, pulsating bass lines, all blissfully and ingenuously executed by Bitch. Add eclectic alt-folk rock, delicate layers of experimental instrumentation with affects, and probing, insightful lyrics. They travel from an introverted hinterland to a joyous landscape of sound meant to move and empower while leaving a lasting impression.

“Kitchen Dirty Revised” opens the record and sets an uplifting tone, with infused call and response and vocal layers conjuring up memories of group ‘sing-alongs’ and hand clapping in glorious unison. The loose, infectious beat stands alongside chirping birdies and Star Wars-like laser accompaniment. “Lost You” shifts gears a tad asking “what if love doesn’t multiply, just subtracts, scratches its fear on my face and marks me like that”. Her vocals convey the forlorn poignancy with warm, smoldering intensity. “Open Up” works up a groove with a bluesy guitar lead, and spoken word prose, eventually culminating with the indelible chorus, “The whole sky’s about to open up, and so am I”.

The title track, “Blasted” integrates her electric violin, so organic that it plays like a fiddle, no tweaks, just a raw timbre to match the emotion conveyed in her voice and the imagery the lyrics paint, “I’ll just add another scar to my belt, promise myself to never forget how this felt”. It concludes by sharply changing dynamics. “Bugs” rocks while delving into poetic verse intensely cradled by a booming chorus. “Wisdom” shifts and crafts into introspection “Lead me to your castle of would, far away from these shackles of should”. “Staying Alive” rounds out the brood with an inspirational call to action. “I get low I get high and if I can’t get either I really try”.

This sophomore release represents Bitch as an innovative songstress and musician who channels into her punk activism. She reaches out far and wide with her choice of instruments, themes and dynamics. Blasted! leaves its mark with slam-style poetics, stories of unrequited love, and empowering rock ballads. It’s an earnest, unifying assemblage true to its word and a gift to the fans who funded it.

Review by Cat Veit