Christina Rubino - (A)live from the Scrapheap (Self-Released)

Just as John Fogerty tricked the world into thinking he was a Country Boy, Brooklyn native Christina Rubino makes it easily to think she’s actually born and bred in the soul of the deep South. Her debut album, live from the Scrapheap was just released last month, and with its roots in Americana and alternative country, it’s a powerful first statement. Finding duality in beauty and unfettered honesty, the album is as brutally raw and stripped as it is melodic and harmonious.

For the most part, the focus of the album is on her acoustic guitar and what’s she singing with simple accompaniment floating in and out unannounced. After playing in different local bands, she went solo, and the songs here are evidently personal as well. Dealing with subjects like addiction and losing one’s parents (“Seems”) to life in general falling apart (“Tidal”), Rubino has said, “I swore most of these songs would never see the light of day. They were too personal, too embarrassing.” Luckily, she has, because it’s rare even in one’s own autobiography the truth is fully told, and her honesty laid bare here feels like a revelation.

Produced by Jeff Farley, the album rides the perfect line between over production and absolute bareness. If there were too many ‘guest appearances’ and layers, the intentions would be lost, but too bare, and the pain may either be too painful or just lost. It’s not that the listener should be shielded from Rubino’s emotions, but the added instrumentation acts as sort of a warning, a slight buffer that prepares you for what becomes clearer with repeated listens.

In some cases, like the album closer “Billy’s Song” the added instrumentals actually enhance the feeling wrought within from Rubino’s powerfully soulful yet restrained vocals. Live from the Scrapheap, an apt title and one that only truly makes sense once the record is fully digested, is just about everything one could dream of for a debut album.