Your weekly submersion into new and experimental music.
Despite the less than cheerful vibes surrounding the recording of Liz Harris’s latest offering, it’s hard not to gleefully welcome the outcome of her experiences, having allowed Harris’ emotions to filter into such naked vocals and gorgeously unadorned piano ballads.
This context is of course rampant speculation, but with tear-streaked gems like ‘Lighthouse’ and ‘Clearing’, it’s obvious Harris isn’t exactly declaring her unbridled lust for life.
The sounds here are lived in, forever captured in the moment of recording. Crickets chirp in the background and thunder bellows from outside as Harris’ voice flirts between a whisper and a hush with delicate subtlety.
To borrow a well-worn phrase — it’s as if Harris is playing in the same room; a private show for the listener who’s more likely a fly on the wall or a peeping tom watching in on something distinctly private and bracingly raw.
