Alela Diane – The Pirate’s Gospel (Holocene/Inertia)

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Alela Diane

The Pirate’ Gospel feels like it will eventually be a hard listen. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve struggled to take it out of the CD player for weeks and weeks. But, already, Alela Diane Menig’ voice feels as familiar as family get-togethers, and with just as much potential for awkwardly intimate moments.

I guess the backdrop for what Alela Diane does is The New Weird America and Psych/Freak Folk. Joanna Newsom gave Diane her first proper shows, she’s toured with Tom Brosseau and opened for Akron/Family and Vashti Bunyan. If you want to get into it, Diane’s debut album even has a “Yo ho ho” and when it first appeared, several years ago, it was self-released in handmade paper and lace sleeves.

Her acoustic guitar playing is simple, but supple and sinuous. There’ an occasional handclap or whistle, a children’ choir, a mandolin and a banjo. It’s a simple backing and Diane’ songs are the album’s heart. Hypnotically coalescing across the album’s 36 minutes, they have a Carver-esque quality, picking up subjects at certain points, finishing at indeterminate points minutes later. The listener is left hanging, reaching for the sub-text. But the meaning is in single lines, single words, to the point that Diane can simply repeat those words or lines, each time upping the emotional resonance.

That’s by the by. Diane’ voice cuts through, its resonant richness swallows me up whole, harmonising with my skin, creating an effect that is difficult to ignore. It’s discrete with that, though. Her words don’ trail off into fuzzy nostalgia, as they might. Instead Diane deploys her words clearly, in lyrics that burn with unexpected turns of phrase.

Matthew Levinson

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