The singer-songwriter sound has been with us a long time, millennia perhaps. Even in its contemporary form, not much has changed at its essential core in the last fifty-plus years. And that is not a criticism, more an observation, that it is comfortable in itself, that it has found its near-perfect form.
And the reason I mention this is that Kitty O’Neal seems to be the perfect bridge between then and now, part modern indie-folk-pop, part early 70s, Laurel Canyon grace, and stepping deftly through the 90’s etherality of Tori Amos and the narrative-driven songs of Sheryl Crow along the way. (There are also moments of Annie Lennox echoing through those charming and chiming pre-choruses.)
Piano lines are covered by deft guitars and shimmering sonics, but it is, for me at least, O’Neal’s voice that steals the show. Musically, it is a fine piece of lush and dreamy pop-infused indie; add the voice, and you have something truly resonant, and resonant in that less-is-more way, relying on seduction and subtlety rather than volume and velocity, as all the best creations are.
And, for all its understatement and sensual sonics, it is a truly uplifting song, capturing that moment of realisation when frustration turns to freedom, when you realise that far from being on the inside of that cage, you are in fact the one on the outside.
Poised indie-pop with a poignant message. Brilliant!
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