
Elizabeth Harper has a voice sweeter than sugared dewdrops on a crisp spring morning. Here on the New Yorker’s debut self-titled album, the soothing crystal tones trickle into your conscience, and fill the air with a honey-steeped glow. Musically, we find clean melodies and a gentle jingle-jangle rooted in a Smiths-ian tradition, which together with the vocals, project familiar hues of The Sundays. This much is true, but slightly naggingly, a little more could be made of these fine attributes.
Moods encompassed range from chirrupy upbeat to bittersweet melancholy. We begin on a high-note, ‘Trouble in the Palace’ bounces along merrily, although doesn’t quite bounce high enough. Several slightly saccharine tracks later, we find ‘Parlour Window’, the album’s one true attempt at angst; Elizabeth raises her voice here to playful abrasion, yet the knife never cuts quite deep enough. It’s the album’s moments of understatement that work the best. The slurry dream of ‘Clean Cut’, with its cyclical piano loop and tender sighs of ‘eternal bleeding will kill me, a clean cut will not’ evoke a calm sadness. The album winds down to closing tracks ‘Turn Down Your Bed’ and Cat Power-esque ‘Sea Water Lullaby’ – perhaps the album’s strongest moments. The latter, stripped down to just vocals and minimal acoustic strum, showcases the power of stark voice and simple melody.
An assured debut, Elizabeth Harper’s enchanting sigh will undoubtedly draw you in. However, it may take an extra sprinkle of magic for the spell to truly bind.
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