Best of 2020
First proper (don't count lathe cuts that are impossible to find...) new Joanne Robertson since the collaboration with Dean Blunt back in 2017 (has it really been that long?), and with it another striking affirmation of the spiritual connection between Glasgow and the American North West (Olympia, Seattle et al). Beautifully ungarnered, delicately-composed, fallen angel-voiced confessionals with its troubles all up on its sleeve. The influence of early Chan Marshall is sort of unavoidable, which is A-OK with me, and you can throw Mary Lou Lord and Hope Sandoval in that mix and colour me more than pleased. Post-grunge dream folk that's all kinds of maudlin and blue is always welcome when its done this well. At 26 minutes long, it's almost over before its started, like some brief open window into the world of a sad-eyed soul. As good as this kind of thing gets right now. Rumour has it this is a super-limited pressing. Either way, well worth digging into.
