Alex Winston - Sister Wife (20/08/2011)
Possibly the most exploited description for many contemporary music releases; ‘infectious indie pop’ seems to have lost all explicative value. However, Alex Winston’s second EP, Sister Wife, is one of the most feverish and contagious pop releases of the year and is sure to infect anyone offering a willing ear.
The multi-instrumentalist’s follow-up to 2010’s Basement Covers EP certainly justifies the hype surrounding this Detroit native. At just 23 years old, this "next big thing" creates a delightfully idiosyncratic blend of pop, soul and folk that could easily be likened to Joanna Newsom.
Violently rhythmic, opening track ‘Locomotive’ is aptly named. It rolls with a cadenced ferocity, harking to youthful escapism and adventure. Despite its anthem-like, exultant pop exterior, the lyrics, “I wish I cared about the things you cared about, but I don’t. Your locomotive keep going…no focus” allude to a wayward love, proving that there can be depth to feather-light pop (not that we’ve ever questioned that).
‘Sister Wife’ doesn’t just start; it explodes. The intro sounds almost suspiciously similar to Yeasayer’s ‘Madder Red’, but that doesn’t distract from the harmonic beauty of the title track. Winston establishes a mature self-assurance, both through her striking and well-structured musicality and her candid and unabashed lyrics.
‘Don’t Care About Anything’ is the ideal soundtrack for when you feel like punching the world back, and ‘Choice Notes’ sounds like it could accompany a video game from the ‘80s – but it is still a wonderfully astral and bewitching track. ‘Sweet James’ certainly exhibits Winston’s old-school influences and sounds like a simultaneous declaration of fondness for the great rock’n’roll of the ‘50s and ‘60s, as well as James (whoever he is).
Closing track ‘Fingers and Toes’ is dangerously melodic and is arguably the highlight of the album. A theatrical arrangement and countless layers of vocals build an ethereal wonderland, almost trivialising the self-critical and desperate lyrics. It’s the kind of song that you wish was longer, leaving you lusting for her next release.
Winston’s voice could be described as an over-ripe PJ Harvey. On Sister Wife, she has created the kind of indie-pop you’d expect a hipster toddler to listen to, but that shouldn’t be considered a negative comment on the music. It bleeds a juicy freshness and has enough energy to power a city. It’s a youthful rage and hunger, suffocated under a mountain of sugar. Sweet.
Lara Moates
The multi-instrumentalist’s follow-up to 2010’s Basement Covers EP certainly justifies the hype surrounding this Detroit native. At just 23 years old, this "next big thing" creates a delightfully idiosyncratic blend of pop, soul and folk that could easily be likened to Joanna Newsom.
Violently rhythmic, opening track ‘Locomotive’ is aptly named. It rolls with a cadenced ferocity, harking to youthful escapism and adventure. Despite its anthem-like, exultant pop exterior, the lyrics, “I wish I cared about the things you cared about, but I don’t. Your locomotive keep going…no focus” allude to a wayward love, proving that there can be depth to feather-light pop (not that we’ve ever questioned that).
‘Sister Wife’ doesn’t just start; it explodes. The intro sounds almost suspiciously similar to Yeasayer’s ‘Madder Red’, but that doesn’t distract from the harmonic beauty of the title track. Winston establishes a mature self-assurance, both through her striking and well-structured musicality and her candid and unabashed lyrics.
‘Don’t Care About Anything’ is the ideal soundtrack for when you feel like punching the world back, and ‘Choice Notes’ sounds like it could accompany a video game from the ‘80s – but it is still a wonderfully astral and bewitching track. ‘Sweet James’ certainly exhibits Winston’s old-school influences and sounds like a simultaneous declaration of fondness for the great rock’n’roll of the ‘50s and ‘60s, as well as James (whoever he is).
Closing track ‘Fingers and Toes’ is dangerously melodic and is arguably the highlight of the album. A theatrical arrangement and countless layers of vocals build an ethereal wonderland, almost trivialising the self-critical and desperate lyrics. It’s the kind of song that you wish was longer, leaving you lusting for her next release.
Winston’s voice could be described as an over-ripe PJ Harvey. On Sister Wife, she has created the kind of indie-pop you’d expect a hipster toddler to listen to, but that shouldn’t be considered a negative comment on the music. It bleeds a juicy freshness and has enough energy to power a city. It’s a youthful rage and hunger, suffocated under a mountain of sugar. Sweet.
Lara Moates