“Sexy, smart, strong, & talented, what’s not to like?” you say???
Yeah, sure, that’s great, but take that woman and toss her up to the great frozen tundra and well, I’m smitten (throw in an occupational-related necklace on her and you’ll have a potentially dangerous situation). So, you can imagine, it was with much joy & delight that on Friday we rounded up a group of friends and headed out some local bar to see Emma-Lee (short for Emily).
This lovely songstress (you know, I don’t get to say that word nearly enough, “songstress”, sounds like I’m about to introduce her as the next “you oughta know artist” on VH1 or something, but regardless, “songstress” is extraordinarily fitting when listening to Emma-Lee), without her backing band (stuck in Canada… apparently you can bring damn near anything across the border, booze, used bikes, Mexicans, half a record store, but try to bring a drum set and you suddenly need a work visa!?! But I’ve got a solution… the bushel bucket. I used to play one with a set of brushes ala the Violent Femmes, but without the tom-tom underneath. Very rich & varied sounds AND you can bust into a cover of “Blister In The Sun” at a moment’s notice), wait… Where was I?
Oh yeah, so Ms. Emma-Lee (after we wiped out half her swag) steps up and delivers a wonderful acoustic set of her beautiful and “depressing” (her words, not mine) songs, with a sweet little “Crazy” medley thrown in for good measure (think Gnarls Barkley & Patsy Cline). Absolutely wonderful set, good friends, good drinks, and a solid representation of Canucks… I’d say it was a pretty fine evening, indeed.
“That’s great and all, glad you had a sweet evening, Tsuru, but how’s the album?”
Man, you guys are full of questions today, aren’t ya? Well, while recovering the festivities the next day, while we were out and about, baby & I kept her debut Never Just A Dream on mad repeat (and left it there all weekend long). Each song is fleshed out perfectly, beautiful, rich, layered with subtleties, yet thematically forlorn and despondent, as if in a lonely room, with it’s wood floor, aging wallpaper and single light sitting in the corner, a room seemingly made a thousand times emptier now that your love is gone. If I had to make comparisons, I do the classic album review name-drop and say it’s Feist meets Madeleine Peyroux, with a side Jenny Lewis, sprinkled with lyrical melancholy (I’ll take my Pulitzer Prize now, thank you).
A beautiful soundtrack for a beautiful weekend (thanks baby!)…. Grab this one while you can, before she writes a “silly love song” and ends up on an iPod commercial or something. Enjoy!
It’s the same old story
She adore me
Oh how could I have ever known?
Well that sinking feeling
doesn’t mean you
have to swim alone…
Why don’t you take me home?