New York Music Daily

No New Abnormal

Ivy Meissner Brings Her Lynchian Psychedelic Soul to Brooklyn Saturday Night

If there’s one artist that California songwriter Ivy Meissner most closely resembles, it’s Holly Miranda. That might sound like outrageous hype, but Meissner knows her soul and has a similarly deep dark side. A fantastic band behind her channels fifty years of Americana and soul music, heavy emphasis on the psychedelics. Lots of guitars on this album: besides the bandleader, there’s Julian Cubillos (who also produced). plus the distinctive pastoral jazz composer and big band leader Tom Csatari. Bassist Matt Rousseau and drummer Jay Rudolph keep a slinky, low-key groove going.

Drenched in various shades of reverb, Meissner’s voice shifts from icy nonchalance to cynicism to a torchy but inscrutable menace. She’s playing the album release show for her debut, Platinum Blues – soon to be streaming at Bandcamp –  Saturday night, August 6 at 9 PM at Littlefield. Cover is $10.

That ominousness appears on the horizon with the first echoey, psychedelic layers of guitars and Meisner’s cool, but defiantly direct vocals as the bass rises to punctuate the sudden crescendos in the album’s title track, a vividly heat-drenched nocturne. Cubillos’ masterful, majestically sweeping production completes the picture. Forget Lana Del Ray – this is the real LA noir.

Talk At Me gives the band a chance to work all sorts of judiciously trippy tinges into a simple wah-guitar soul vamp, Meissner’s vocals processed like an extra on the Star Trek Voyager deck – and then suddenly there’s a detour into summery psychedelic folk. An opaquely atmospheric number, The Inkwell blends elements of acid jazz and hip-hop into the mix. The wickedly catchy oldschool soul-tinged 6/8 ballad Martyr is the closest thing to Miranda here – and also brings to mind a vastly underrated ex-Brooklyn songstress, Barbara Brousal. The band keeps the same slow groove going through False Tide, part Mazzy Star haze, part Throwing Muses growl.

A swaying, swirly update on vintage Memphis soul, Shelby features an artfully fluttery horn chart played by multi-reedmen Casey Berman, Levon Henry and Tristan Cooley from Csatari’s Uncivilized chamber jazz group. Hysteria Wisteria juxtaposes Meissner’s most sultry vocal here against Csatari’s playfully unsettled lines, shifting between straight-up soul and uneasy jazz.

The album’s catchiest and most anthemic track – the one that screams out “monster college radio hit” – is New Way to Break, a scruffy update on a classic Muscle Shoals sound. Rousseau’s bubbly bass and some jaunty flute take centerstage in the brief instrumental The Next Big Thing; the album winds up with the brooding ballad Undeserving, Meissner channeling equal parts ache and seduction. It’s seldom that a singer this individualistic has such a great band behind her, or that a band this good gets to back a leader who gives them so much first-class material to sink their teeth into.

Tamalyn Miller Plays an Otherworldly Debut Solo Show in a Chinatown Back Garden

Multi-instrumentalist Tamalyn Miller‘s sepulchral, microtonally-infused one-string fiddle textures are just as essential to Brooklyn art-rockers Goddess‘ sound as frontwoman Fran Pado’s phantasmagorical vocals and creepy storytelling, and multi-instrumentalist Andy Newman’s cinematics. Although Miller is no stranger to building her own instruments and then enhancing others’ music with them, it wasn’t until last night that she made her debut as a solo artist…in the Camera Club of New York’s Baxter Street tenement backyard.

The scene was as anachronistically surreal as a Ben Katchor illustration. The garden itself, with its overgrown brickwork and what looked like a toolshed for hobbits tucked into a shady corner, seemed straight out of 1850. Over the back fence, vehicles were racked up three high at the adjacent carpark. And a reverse gear alarm kept shrieking at the least opportune moments, courtesy of a driver too clueless or sadistic to silence it while waiting for a spot to open up.

But Miller made it all worthwhile. In another trippy juxtaposition, she ran her ancient-sounding homemade instrument through a series of loop pedals and effects, a one-woman orchestra from a village five thousand years ago beamed into the 21st century. She opened by building a hypnotic, texturally shifting vamp out of a simple, allusively dark, bluesy riff. Next was a whispery tableau alluding to a funeral procession, perhaps. Alternately nebulous and stormy loops created by breathing and blowing through a reed became a platform for a couple of enveloping vocal numbers that brought to mind Lesley Flanigan‘s sound sculptures.

The most striking moment in a set that went on for only a tantalizing half an hour was a starkly individualistic version of the old Scottish folk song Two Sisters, its doomed dichotomy brought to life by Miller’s somber low-register melody, spiced with keening, eerily reedy high harmonics that took on an even more menacing edge when run through the reverb pedal. Miller closed on a rapt, still note with a miniature in the same vein as Carlo Costa’s minimalist Natura Morta soundscapes. Throughout this strange, exotic performance, Miller sat calm and inscrutable, her presence matching the music’s enigmatic, quietly feral quality. By contrast, the flamenco band playing outdoors in the park behind Lincoln Center about an hour later seemed impossibly tame. Miller has playfully described her music as straddling the line between a medicinal dose and a lethal one, which made more sense than ever after seeing her perform her own material.

This performance was part of the opening festivities for the provocative, relevant decay-themed current group show at the Camera Club of New York, 126 Baxter St. south of Hester. Curated by Abigail Simon, artists on display include Miller, Simon, Esther Boesche, Anthony Hamboussi, Rania Khalil, Izabela Jurcewicz, Wayne Liu, Theresa Ortolani, Hannah Solin, Andrew Spano, Stephen Spera and Marina Zurkow. The closing reception is August 7 starting at 2 PM.