Sun. Feb 5th, 2023

On her second album of uncooked, deliciously unhappy indie-rock, Nashville-based Samia continually flits between blackly comedian confessionals and excruciating bloodletting. Opener Kill Her Freak Out, underpinned by a funereal organ sigh, imagines her killing an ex’s new lover, the phrases delivered with a shrug of internet-speak irony. Moments later, nevertheless, she attracts the listener again in: “Can I let you know one thing?” she sings, her voice shut: “I’ve by no means felt so unworthy of loving.”

The art work for Honey

It’s a trick she performs all through; continually zooming out and in of tales of damaged relationships, poisonous behaviour and dependancy in ways in which really feel diaristic and uncomfortably relatable. The fragile Pink Balloon juxtaposes a pal’s emotional turmoil with the 26-year-old’s more and more determined makes an attempt to maintain issues mild (“I’m tryna make you snicker / Sweating like an acrobat”), whereas Respiration Tune describes an evening out turned unhealthy (“from the bar to the ER”), earlier than its refrain of more and more pained “no, no, no”s acts as a much-needed common purging.

Musically, very similar to her 2020 debut, The Child, Honey skews lo-fi, positioning Samia’s versatile voice entrance and centre over bruised synths (Nanana), or acoustic guitar (the country-folk lilt of To Me It Was). There are flashes of expanse, nevertheless. Rostam provides a sparse drum machine and shards of mutilated guitar to the inquisitive Mad at Me, whereas Sea Lions blossoms from plaintive organ to a tragic membership throb penetrated by snatches of discombobulating voicemail messages. Playful, painful and loaded with hooks that worm their solution to the floor, Honey feels ripe for bleak midwinter wallowing.

Honey is out 27 January on Grand Jury.

By Admin

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