Post by petrolino on Sept 21, 2019 18:47:48 GMT
3 For The Road . . .
Angel Olsen
Poet, musician and songwriter Angel Olson defies the cosy confines of the singer-songwriter label in a number of interesting ways. For example, some of her epics drift into feverish bouts of increasingly frenzied instrumentation. She now has four albums under her belt and plays to a growing legion of fans. I'm interested to hear what peope think of her music. I like some songs that I've heard.
"Angel Olsen performs with incredible intensity, whether she's performing in an acoustic whisper or cranking out searing rock 'n' roll at the head of a band."
- Stephen Thompson, National Public Radio
Angel Olsen
'Sister' - Angel Olsen
---
Jessica Pratt
Finger-picking guitarist Jessica Pratt uses unusual chord structures and musical phrasing to create soundscapes that creep up on you. She originally recorded low fidelity home demos of her songs, a bit like Liz Phair did back in the 1980s. She produced a personal set reflective of her work in 'On Your Own Love Again' (2015), three years on from the muted release of her eponymous debut.
Jessica Pratt
From The Archive : Jessica Pratt performs 'Back Baby' in Auckland, New Zealand in January 2015
Pratt played some gigs in support of Jenny Lewis in north-eastern American states in 2017 and this helped raise her profile beyond the west coast. Her album 'Quiet Signs' sees her augment her sound structures with flute, strings, piano.
"If you’re looking for muted mystery, Jessica Pratt’s third album, as its title suggests, will enigmatically oblige. Quiet disquiet has been the California singer-songwriter’s subtle weapon since her debut, and these nine songs, fully and beautifully recorded in a professional studio for the first time, stick to the winning formula, centred around hypnotically simple acoustic repetitions, muted piano and Pratt’s soft siren calls.
The ersatz vintage grain of folkish chamber-pop confections such as This Time Around and Fare Thee Well could almost have you believe she’s some lost, private-pressed psychedelic prophet, dug up by a label like Light in the Attic or Trunk Records, were it not for the post-millennial tone of her child-witch voice, so reminiscent of CocoRosie or early Joanna Newsom. The likes of Here My Love and Poly Blue beguile with an eerie, emotionally distant, dissipated prettiness, adorned with occasional bursts of psych flute. Pratt saves the best for last, though, with the complex, shifting emotions of Aeroplane, which hints at a haunted, Mazzy Star-ish darkness, her voice flitting playfully into deeper registers. It really is the quiet ones you have to watch."
The ersatz vintage grain of folkish chamber-pop confections such as This Time Around and Fare Thee Well could almost have you believe she’s some lost, private-pressed psychedelic prophet, dug up by a label like Light in the Attic or Trunk Records, were it not for the post-millennial tone of her child-witch voice, so reminiscent of CocoRosie or early Joanna Newsom. The likes of Here My Love and Poly Blue beguile with an eerie, emotionally distant, dissipated prettiness, adorned with occasional bursts of psych flute. Pratt saves the best for last, though, with the complex, shifting emotions of Aeroplane, which hints at a haunted, Mazzy Star-ish darkness, her voice flitting playfully into deeper registers. It really is the quiet ones you have to watch."
- Emily Mackay, The Guardian
"I’ve known Jessica Pratt for about three years. We share a mutual love for Psychic TV, black cats, and five dollar Thrift Town finds. I’ve always distinguished her as an internal, observant woman with a dry sense of humor that is usually delivered in a comedic tone of voice; most likely telling a story about the disagreeable clientele that stand in line at the bakery she works at on weekend mornings, demanding loaves of artisan bread as if it were the French Revolution.
I recently discovered that when she is not not adhering to the demands at said bakery, Pratt moonlights as a seraphic folk singer and songwriter. She has posted recordings infrequently on her Facebook over the past couple of years, which caught my attention and led me to realize that she is incredibly talented. Her self-titled album was released this year, but recorded over five years ago on Tim Presley’s label Birth Records.
Jessica is not the type to force her music upon you, proclaiming it unquestionable to ignore. You pick up on her unpretentious vibe while watching her play. It is as if she is being dragged on stage by an imaginary hand and forced to play the most intimate of sets against her will.
It’s almost voyeuristic. It feels special and rare. After having missed the opportunity to see her open for the likes of John C. Riley at The Chapel, I was privy to a vulnerable Jessica opening for Michael Hurley at the Great American Music Hall. She bewitched the audience and myself with what sounded like a perfectly tuned violin escaping from her vocal cords, convulsing over a subtle, sweet and steady guitar plucking that lasted throughout her set.
While there were some variations in her set, in the end, her songs felt like one mysteriously somber and romantic story that unfolded with every song. “Was that like a twenty minute song or what?” she asked with a laugh after one particular song.
“That’s the first time she’s made a joke on stage,” her boyfriend Colby pointed out after the performance. She’s getting more comfortable with performing, obviously. I’m glad I saw her in the beginning stages, where the live performance is still a new experience, less routine, and as foreign of a phenomenon to the performer as it is to the audience. Did I mention Jessica is also a member of the Brian Jones fan club? I’m pretty sure she gets the newsletter.
– Eva-Marie Hube, DECADES
I recently discovered that when she is not not adhering to the demands at said bakery, Pratt moonlights as a seraphic folk singer and songwriter. She has posted recordings infrequently on her Facebook over the past couple of years, which caught my attention and led me to realize that she is incredibly talented. Her self-titled album was released this year, but recorded over five years ago on Tim Presley’s label Birth Records.
Jessica is not the type to force her music upon you, proclaiming it unquestionable to ignore. You pick up on her unpretentious vibe while watching her play. It is as if she is being dragged on stage by an imaginary hand and forced to play the most intimate of sets against her will.
It’s almost voyeuristic. It feels special and rare. After having missed the opportunity to see her open for the likes of John C. Riley at The Chapel, I was privy to a vulnerable Jessica opening for Michael Hurley at the Great American Music Hall. She bewitched the audience and myself with what sounded like a perfectly tuned violin escaping from her vocal cords, convulsing over a subtle, sweet and steady guitar plucking that lasted throughout her set.
While there were some variations in her set, in the end, her songs felt like one mysteriously somber and romantic story that unfolded with every song. “Was that like a twenty minute song or what?” she asked with a laugh after one particular song.
“That’s the first time she’s made a joke on stage,” her boyfriend Colby pointed out after the performance. She’s getting more comfortable with performing, obviously. I’m glad I saw her in the beginning stages, where the live performance is still a new experience, less routine, and as foreign of a phenomenon to the performer as it is to the audience. Did I mention Jessica is also a member of the Brian Jones fan club? I’m pretty sure she gets the newsletter.
– Eva-Marie Hube, DECADES
Jessica Pratt on 'What's In My Bag?'
---
Natalie Prass
Musician and songwriter Natalie Prass released her eponymous debut album in 2015. She enjoyed a lengthy sting playing as part of Jenny Lewis' touring band and Lewis is a vocal supporter of her talent. Her second album 'The Future And The Past' (2018) develops upon an interesting sound.
"In the aftermath of the 2016 election, as nauseating improbability hardened into a reality, Natalie Prass found herself sitting on an album’s worth of songs that felt entirely wrong. Some artists who shared her frustrations were quick to express them in the moment. Setting aside the compositions she had imagined would make up her sophomore album, Prass, too, was determined to respond to Trump. But it took her a bit longer to find the right words.
Arriving well after the collective post-election adrenal spike started tapering off, as exhausted members of the resistance burn out from the stress of fighting the president’s every move, The Future and the Past isn’t a set of protest songs so much as the compassionate self-portrait of a protester who’s in it for the long haul. Prass levels her demands, then gives herself permission to be tired and discouraged—and to indulge in passing moments of joy.
On day one of the Trump presidency, “Sisters” might have made the most sense as the album’s showpiece; with its call for female solidarity and reclamation of the “nasty woman” epithet, the track could easily serve as a pump-up jam for droves of banner-waving women in pink. Now, nested seven tracks deep, “Sisters” feels more like the album’s bedrock. It’s the song into which Prass’ feminism is most clearly etched; she calls out to underpaid women grinding to keep the lights on, women trapped in bad relationships, women praying to be judged by their work and not their bodies. That she performs much of this song with a crew of female backup singers reads as a nod to the power of the collective voice.
On the verses Prass sings solo, her voice floats and rustles the way it did on her self-titled 2015 debut. At first listen, that album, with its delicate but ornate orchestration, offers an aesthetic more suited to her modest vocal style. But on “Sisters”—and throughout The Future—the grooves cut deeper, threatening to overpower her melodies. That contrast has political implications of its own: The tenderness of Prass’ voice poses a challenge to the notion that brute force and bluster are the most effective ways to relay a message.
And while the sonic shake-ups that distinguish The Future from its predecessor are noticeable, they aren’t radical. Prass stands behind the more-is-more philosophy that guided her debut, adding layers of synth, bass, and percussion to fill in the spaces where she’s peeled back woodwinds and strings."
Arriving well after the collective post-election adrenal spike started tapering off, as exhausted members of the resistance burn out from the stress of fighting the president’s every move, The Future and the Past isn’t a set of protest songs so much as the compassionate self-portrait of a protester who’s in it for the long haul. Prass levels her demands, then gives herself permission to be tired and discouraged—and to indulge in passing moments of joy.
On day one of the Trump presidency, “Sisters” might have made the most sense as the album’s showpiece; with its call for female solidarity and reclamation of the “nasty woman” epithet, the track could easily serve as a pump-up jam for droves of banner-waving women in pink. Now, nested seven tracks deep, “Sisters” feels more like the album’s bedrock. It’s the song into which Prass’ feminism is most clearly etched; she calls out to underpaid women grinding to keep the lights on, women trapped in bad relationships, women praying to be judged by their work and not their bodies. That she performs much of this song with a crew of female backup singers reads as a nod to the power of the collective voice.
On the verses Prass sings solo, her voice floats and rustles the way it did on her self-titled 2015 debut. At first listen, that album, with its delicate but ornate orchestration, offers an aesthetic more suited to her modest vocal style. But on “Sisters”—and throughout The Future—the grooves cut deeper, threatening to overpower her melodies. That contrast has political implications of its own: The tenderness of Prass’ voice poses a challenge to the notion that brute force and bluster are the most effective ways to relay a message.
And while the sonic shake-ups that distinguish The Future from its predecessor are noticeable, they aren’t radical. Prass stands behind the more-is-more philosophy that guided her debut, adding layers of synth, bass, and percussion to fill in the spaces where she’s peeled back woodwinds and strings."
- Olivia Horn, Pitchfork
Natalie Prass
'Short Court Style' - Natalie Prass
