Michigan and Marzuki lost Shannon Stephens a year ago to the emerald call of Seattle's singer/songwriter scene. Now on the same porch as Jurado and Bazan, Stephens gives us something so delicate and thick with her debut solo LP that the boys of Pacific fall may just have to move aside for some true girl-power – energy derived not from snotty arrogance, but from supple grace and comfortable confession: a lady-like silk of red and violet yanked from regality by ubiquitous grays and cottons.
Many of the informed few have already duly noted the compelling flagship of Shannon's music – her voice, a luminous instrument conserved and portioned for savoring; a dull sword that cuts deep upon gregarious, minimalistic thrusts of unassuming cello and garish banjo. Folk music, hardly, but the air is there; that certain sonic that paints roots and earth on a canvas of un-sunned skin and dirty hair. More appropriately to our examination, Shannon converses, telling us about her day, asking for us to understand in slow nods and blank stares that mask boiling empathy. A faith permeates her wistful reflection, a faith in a Savior that sits beside her placidly – listening to her unload like a perfect husband would – a faith in something so human yet so, so antithetical to humanity. A few listens and you will know.
This unique work of practical melancholy and post-modern soul was produced by Shannon, Matt Haseltine, and Sufjan Stevens. It can be ordered at www.pastemusic.com and www.truetunes.com.
Similar sounding releases
2002David HurnHe Was a Woman
2004Sufjan StevensSeven Swans
2004Chris KozaExit Pesce
2003LowlightsLowlights
2001Simon JoynerHotel Lives
2001DrugstoreSongs for the Jet Set
