Totally robbed of a Pitch Perfect 2 cameo…
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[5.50]
Anthony Easton: I await the Strawbs/Pentagle revival with baited breath, and I love Steeleye Span deeply — and although this is supposed to sound like Laura Marling (and it kind of does in its way), its historical borrowings are closer to those 70s creations of myth out of whole cloth.
[8]
Micha Cavaseno: Wyvern Lingo sounds like it has the promise of being the most street-savy, needlessly awe-inspiring modern dragon slayer ever. The kind of inexplicable cool of a Dungeon Master with a haircut that involved careful consideration from a barber, who wields authority in a t-shirt without an ironic joke and True Religions. What you get is an acapella trio with Lilith Fair songwriting who let their crystals back home with the Dead Can Dance CDs, but were ABSOLUTELY sure to overpack every last bit of self-seriousness (just in case). The kind of thing that turns that name from a promise into a letdown.
[2]
Alfred Soto: The minor key keyboad rumble and this Irish trio’s voices remind me of Joni Mitchell’s “Shadows and Light,” especially the confidence with which it stop and starts verses, the subtlety with which they imbue “take my advice” with sadness. Too precious for my taste, though.
[6]
Thomas Inskeep: If I wanted to hear a cappella folk music… no, actually, I never do.
[1]
Nina Lea Oishi: Oh, but this is gorgeous. They’re singing about pain, but it couldn’t be more captivating, rendered in such heart-wrenching harmonies. Like Haim, Wyvern Lingo’s resolutions of strength (“I can’t be broken twice”) are amplified by the power that is three women, singing together, making perfectly synchronized melody. Hozier is a lucky guy to have these ladies as his backing vocals.
[8]
Ramzi Awn: Honesty isn’t always the best policy, but somehow it works against the backdrop of a chorale of beautiful singers. The straightforwardness on “Used” successfully eulogizes a wasted love in a way that Björk wasn’t able to, but Dolores O’Riordan was.
[6]
Will Adams: The ornate arrangement reminds me of the melancholy narratives that The Cinematic Orchestra explored on Ma Fleur. On “Used,” however, the texture is stripped down to three voices (though multiplied to sound like a hundred) and a low organ that adds the necessary somber affect.
[7]
Katherine St Asaph: A metaphor last visited, with similar feel and empathy, by Ashley Monroe. “Used” is more of a sketch than that, or than a song, and the lyric can’t decide whether it wants to be stately or blunt; but I spent too much time in too many formative years listening to sketches like this, and the prospect of this austere sort of female vocal trio being discovered almost justifies Hozier’s omnipresence.
[6]