To succeed, Reese McHenry's music must overcome two points that bring attention to it. The first, and most obvious: she sounds like Janis Joplin. Even after steady listening, the similarity's striking enough that the connection will follow her around. The second: her backstory. McHenry began having health problems in 2008 and ended up on a medical adventuring involving heart problems, strokes and several years of recovery. McHenry continued to write songs, and by the time she had her power back, she was ready to blow up a stage, the way any good pacemaker-patient/rock 'n' roller would do.
Her new album No Dados will likely gain attention as a novelty for just those two reasons, but its own merits make it worth listening to. While the Joplin connection could be taken as a dismissal, it also comes with the praise that only someone Joplinesque could earn. McHenry sings big, a slight rasp entering her tone as she attacks every song. She maintains control, though. It would be a mistake to assume she's a howler when her phrasing comes so smartly delivered and her use of dynamics keeps the album always surprising.
McHenry's based in Chapel Hill, but her music comes straight from Detroit garages. You could draw a line back to MC5, but thinking of a roughed up Von Bondies gets to McHenry's sound more immediately, especially on cuts like the pounding opener “Magnolia Tree.” Her ability to adapt to poppier and slower tunes suggests a more varied lineage, and with her voice, she'd be able to take her sound in quite a few directions.
These tracks serve her, well, though. Much of the album focuses on leaving or being left by a romantic partner; other tracks suffer impatiently for one reason or another. In “Murdered Love,” McHenry sings, “You think that things can’t get worse / But I’m here to tell you that they can,” with a mix of hurt and sneer. She knows dark mental alleys, and she punch her way through them. Her strength comes in part through the process. The spare “Gin & Catatonic” doesn't slow down, but it still meditates on change and growth, McHenry reassuring herself, “I'm gonna learn to let it go.”
McHenry-as-character might be struggling to learn some lessons, but McHenry-as-performer seems to have mastered all she needs. No Dados is straightforward, but hardly blunt, with enough twists in tempo and style to remain engaging in its directness. McHenry might get noticed for superficial reasons, but her latest release should quickly highlight her particular power.
