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Liz Durrett, "The Mezzanine"

With lyrics hinting of violence, repression, and longing, Liz Durrettmaintains an air of soured innocence, as if grappling with thetransgressions she's witnessed and whether or not forgiveness ispossible. She mines decidedly different territory with her evocation ofa haunted South. Personal tragedies, hiding places, and the unravelingof mysteries infect her second album with a melancholy as insidious asthe kudzu she invokes on her track "Creepyaskudzu." Although she playsguitar on all but one of the tracks, her use of the instrument servesmore as a backdrop since the emotional weight of the material restsalmost solely on her voice.


Warm Electronic Recordings

The subtle yet superb production of Durrett's uncle, Vic Chestnutt,brings the album to life. Vic, who along with his wife Tina accompaniesDurrett on a variety of instruments, fills the space with minimalarrangements that support the songs themselves without causing undodistraction, such as the faint panning distortion underneath "Cup onthe Counter," or the xylophone offsetting feedback on "No Apology."Since Durrett rarely sings above a whisper, Chestnutt wisely layers anddouble-tracks her voice for maximum impact.

The first half of the album proceeds at a similar pace until shebreaks up the flow with her piano instrumental, "Silent Partner," whichalso would have been a good opening track since its melody encapsulatesmany of the dark themes found elsewhere on the album. Her vocal styledoesn't alter too much until "Marlene," where she extends notes in adisplay of acute vulnerability. However, it's not until the final song,"In the Throes," that she finally fills the space with the amplitude ofher voice rather than the texture.

The frustrating thing is that sheproves that she has a voice capable of variation, but she doesn'texplore the possibilities nearly enough. It's also a shame she doesn'ttake more musical chances like she does when she plays feedback on "NoApology." Yet The Mezzanine is an accomplishment in itself by the wayit invokes the geography, both physical and mental, of a landscape that"hides what it chokes/is it not beautiful."

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