You might expect to see someone named Odetta Hartman in a band with people calling themselves Howlin’ Wolf Matsuzaka and Nina Simone Bjornquist. But that’s this singer/multi-instrumentalist’s real name. Her Bandcamp page – where her new album 222 is streaming – is tagged “experimental country club cowboy soul experimental pop future folk new york city.” Auspiciously, it’s available on cassette for seven bucks – cheaper than a download, semi-permanently archivable, safe from phone glitches and hard drive crashes. She’s playing the album release show on October 8 at 8 PM at the big room at the Rockwood; cover is $10.
The opening track is Creektime, a brain-warping mashup of hip-hop and torchy oldtimey blues, with a flurry of shivery strings and a plaintive violin solo when you least expect them. Tap Tap deals with “making deals with the devil,” sparely and nebulously – flitting strings and electronic touches add to the sepulchrally rustic ambience. Hartman runs her banjo through an amp for some tasty distortion on Dreamcatchers, a pretty irresistible and funny return to the oldtimey/newschool dynamic.
Lazy LA – an oxymoron, right? – has a delicate, distantly Brazilian lullaby feel – is that a tenor guitar, maybe? By contrast, Batonebo is a stark, minor-key noir guitar blues. Limoncello is a heavy-lidded, torchy come-on, Hartman’s voice doing that tenth-wave Billie Holiday thing that never seems not to be all the rage among girls with acoustic guitars. The most unselfconsciously attractive and anthemic number – i.e. the big hit – is the oldschool soul-inspired Hard Wired. The album winds up with the surreal Lucky Dog, which may be fueled by the “suspicious contraband” that Hartman alludes to. Throughout the album, she impresses with her dexterity and insightful familiarity with a vast expanse of instruments and styles usually far beyond the reach of most bedroom popsters. Not bad for the scion of an independent New York pizza parlor mini-empire.