
Clairo - Reaper
There are moments in Sling, Clairo's newly released sophomore LP, that feel so eloquent and personal, I have to remind myself that I haven't accidentally accessed someone's private voice memos. "Reaper" is one of these transcendent, mature and especially affecting moments on the record. A love letter to her mother (and the prospect of motherhood in and of itself), "Reaper" was the first track Claire Cottrill penned for the album. I'll refrain from over-explaining that this album is musically distinct from its predecessor Immunity—I'll let you have the pleasure of delving into it yourself. But it's worth mentioning, for this song in particular, that Clairo is emerging as an excellent folk writer. She's clearly drawing inspiration from some of the best Americana acts of the last century, emulating everyone from Joni Mitchell or Crosby, Stills and Nash to Fleet Foxes. But don't misunderstand: Cottrill is hardly a copycat. She's carving out a sound and a voice that is entirely her own.
I, like a lot of young people during the pandemic, had the opportunity to be home with my parents for a while. Reacquainting myself with them as an adult was inspiring and hard, and most frequently filled me with a sense of hope. It is this broken hope, a hope that comes from deep, empathetic understanding, that Cottrill communicates so effectively in "Reaper." This is why it resonates so deeply with listeners. This shattered but aspirational reaching toward life reverberates through the entire record and is punctuated in the frail, little pockets of her expertly sewn lyricism. "I'm born to be somebody, then somebody comes from me / I'll tell you about the Rabbit Moon and when to keep walking" are some of my favorite lines from this track, and are all the more permeating through Cottrill's signature soft vocals.
Clairo's ability to empathize so specifically with the speakers of her songs makes her one of the wisest and most interesting young performers right now. Sling was well worth the wait. It's a clear reflection of the hard work and thoughtfulness of an expert writer honing her craft. Photo by Adrian Nieto.
— Hannah Lupas on July 29, 2021
Henry Jamison - The Wilds
Henry Jamison is a storyteller at heart. It may be in his blood — his father, a classical composer, and his mother, an English professor — but Jamison is a writer and artist in his own right, evidenced by his debut album The Wilds (released October 27th). Beyond writing, recording and arranging the album all on his own, Jamison has a special ability to bring each track to life. Take his song, “The Wilds”: it’s instrumentally rich without being overbearing, letting Jamison’s narrative whisk you away. “The Wilds” sounds like an old-time American love story - unassuming and familiar, but nevertheless, still surprising.
— Natasha Cucullo on January 7, 2018
Moses Sumney - Plastic
Los Angeles genre-bending artist Moses Sumney released his gorgeous and ethereal debut album Aromanticism into the world this September. Sumney has made a big impression on artists like Solange and Sufjan Stevens for good reason. His infusion of soul and folk come together on this album in a way that leaves us begging for more. A prime example of this heavenly blend is found on the third song of the album, “Plastic.” A previous version of the song can be heard on the first season of Issa Rae’s HBO series, Insecure. This new version serves as one of the more simplistic songs on the album, featuring just a fingerpicked electric guitar, a synth and Sumney’s captivating voice. The hook of the song repeats the line “my wings are made of plastic,” each time sung in a slightly different way than it was before, continuing to imbue the phrase with new meaning. This song of vulnerability, self-awareness and secret-spilling is the kind that you can leave on repeat and get lost in for hours.
— Dara Bankole on October 22, 2017