Sarah Louise, Sally Ann Morgan and Kryssi B — Natch 11: Earth Cult (Black Dirt)
NATCH 11 - Earth Cult - Sarah Louise, Sally Anne Morgan & Kryssi B by Sarah Louise, Sally Anne Morgan & Kryssi B
Two of independent music’s shit-hottest guitar players—Sarah Louise of House and Land and Kryssi Battalene of Mountain Movers, Headroom and sundry other projects—join forces with Louise’s House and Land partner Sally Ann Morgan in a one-session recording that sheathes traditional Americana in a trippy psychedelic glow. These three artists, the latest to be conjoined in the Natch series of collaborative recordings, bring out the eerie shadows in old country harmonies, find a transcendental hum in the wheeze of harmonium and elicit a flickering sheen of mysticism in dueling acoustic and electric instruments.
Like all the Natch sessions, this one is loosely aligned with the projects you already know. You can hear echoes of House and Land’s stark traditionalism in “Gathering,” and “Cherry Tree Carol,” and some of Headroom’s guitar-centric gnostics in slow rolling “Emerald Ash.” Yet what makes the trip worthwhile is the way it diverges from expectations, and how the artists pull each other off center in arresting ways.
“Cherry Tree Carol,” for instance, begins with a very old song about Mary’s difficult conversation with Joseph concerning the virgin birth. (“Like hell you did,” saith Joseph, or so we imagine.) But the three musicians introduce this traditional tune and narrative very slowly, building wonder in a two-minute introductory aura of sustained harmonium notes, sprightly banjo and looming electric guitar. The singing, coming in only about a quarter of the way through the track, is brash and nakedly honest, with a yelp and rasp embedded in the melody. It is hard to convey how well these two elements work together, the plain spoken verse and the mystery-plumbing instrumentals. If you’re looking for a metaphor for how the spiritual pervades even the most ordinary moments, here it is.
Elsewhere traditional folk is not so prominent, and the songs take a more experimental turn. The opener “Skullcap,” punctuates long harmonium throbs with ghostly chink of bells. It is haunted, rather than inhabited, by wordless vocals with caress and murmur and keen. There’s an animal vitality in the way the “ahs” and “ohs” flutter and howl above shadowy landscapes of drone, a fierce, untethered spirituality in its slow progression. You might hear shades of Christina Carter, here and elsewhere, in the way that simple, folk-centered melodies bend and distort and float free, or of Heron Oblivion in the intersection of acoustic picking and wild, free-wheeling electric improvisations of “Two.”
All of which is to say that this is a very beautiful album, whether meshed in strident backwoods harmonies (“Gathering”) or jetting off into interstellar psychedelia (“Emerald Ash”). Louise, Morgan and Battalene are good together, staying respectful of each other’s strengths and pushing each other into areas that they might not have considered on their own. It’s a cult worth joining.
