Sunday funday. And maybe Monday a bit too. Let’s hit it.
To quote the initial master of ceremonies:
"Here it is, another edition of the prompt game!
The rules: I post the following dialogue, but without any context. Then youwrite a short story using the dialogue. When you’re finished, send it to me! Or post it on your Tumblr with the tag…
'These Lines Laid Down'
Now available to download on Bandcamp
Sally Fowler is one of the most talented artists I have the pleasure of knowing. Her most recent album, These Lines Laid Down, exemplifies so many of the things that inspire me about Sally. She deftly moves from style to style, seeming to channel everyone from Ingrid Michaelson (see Cruel Intentions) to Of Monsters and Men (The Mist). The emotional climax of Montreal, which sees Sally’s oh-so-ethereal voice break into an almost-sobbed shout, even puts me in mind of Jason Robert Brown’s innovative early 2000’s musical, The Last Five Years. This isn’t to imply that Sally doesn’t have a story of her own to tell—musically or otherwise. One thing that’s sure to catch my ear when it comes to music is its ability to be enjoyed on multiple levels, and These Lines Laid Down embraces this in spades. The dreamy, melodic vibes that unite this album make it an easy one to put on in the background, allowing it to transport you away into its patiently crafted harmonies with punches of pizzicato for texture. But the longer you let it seep down into your bones, the more likely you are to be infected by its rich, lyrical storytelling as well. Often inspired by film, Sally knows how to tell a tale—particularly when to let the story take the reigns and when to let it lurk in your rearview mirror. The result is a combination of understated revelations that might pass you by the first few listens (Crossroads, Montreal) and gut-punching proclamations that grab you by the shoulders and won’t let go (Go To Sleep). To top it all off, this is an album where multi-instrumentalist Fowler is stretching her comfort zone: exploring the rich emotional range of her delicate voice (Daughter, The Greatest Killer, Montreal) as well as new genres (the jazzy Cruel Intentions and The Greatest Killer). Celebrate rounds off the record with a fitting blend of hope and trepidation; uniting, if not resolving, many of the work’s themes; leaving the listener eager for more.
On the whole, a delightful album, and not to be missed.
That feed on their velocity
And little whirls have smaller whirls
And so on to viscosity.
Brandoch and I listened to Olivia Jean warm up to this during the soundcheck for the Jack White concert on Sept. 14th, and I’ve had it stuck in my head ever sense.
Anyway, this is in honor of all my guitars being back in tune, my pedals plugged in, and the new drum machine.