The Deal: Expanded palette results in another leap forward for underrated Liz Durrett.
The Good: Liz Durrett’s processional-paced songs embody that marvelous duality of the visceral and ethereal, like crisp fall days where mortality imbues the fading light. Some of that comes via Durrett’s voice, a husky instrument that whispers sibilants and pulls apart vowels. But here the pristine production by ex-Archer of Loaf-er Eric Bachman expands on the threadbare arrangements and Gothic narratives of 2006’s Mezzanine to allow more light in, throwing shadows into even greater relief. “Wild As Them” is an up-tempo, syncopated rocker whose choruses soar on Memphis-soul horn blasts; maracas, horns, and pizzicato strings on “You Live Alone” deliver a subtle and effective Mariachi vibe; the clanking percussion, fuzzed-out baritone guitar and foreboding fiddle that propel “Always Signs” sound like they were forged in a devilish foundry; and “Note For A Girl” successfully blends Jesus & Mary Chain feedback into a folk song setting. By the time Durrett gets to the quiet autumnal fare, chamber strings and organ wash coloring everything in sepia hues, a narrative confession of hurt so palpable “I might implode with it” resonates like canon shot.
The Bad: Durrett drops one clunky couplet in the opener, a minor flaw that does nothing to detract from the record’s charm.
The Verdict: A record as mesmerizing as her live shows. Durrett doesn’t share the same profile as her female singer-songwriter peers, but if that doesn’t change with this record then the music industry is even more dysfunctional than regularly noted.
This article appears in Sep 16-23, 2008.
