By Kevin Scott
Some recording artists create their signature sound through a single element - whether that be the strength or style of the singer, a particular style of guitar playing, the dexterous skill of a pianist, or the use of an unusual instrument. Some stand out through a combination of parts, which on paper could conflict but instead create something special.
With her self-titled debut album, Torres falls into the latter category. As the recording name of 22 year-old Nashville resident Mackenzie Scott, Torres is striking through both her enchanting, honey-sweet, but fractured voice and her use of electric guitar in a folky-Americana songwriting style where acoustic would have followed convention. The result is a home-recorded album that sounds very much its own. It's the sound of a tortured soul finding solace in a six-string and exorcising a lifetime's demons through the birth of 10 songs that sigh, scream and dazzle.
'Mother Earth, Father God' immediately grabs, from its lyrics of desperation, confusion and need: "the greatest trick that I ever saw was them fooling us to think they were never here at all," to the sparse sound of electric guitar and brushed cymbals.
For someone bearing her soul, Torres sounds determined; even her unflinching face on the monochrome album cover as she is kissed on the cheek by an unseen character evokes a focus to overcome many emotional obstacles. Unlike many of the current crop of female singer-songwriters there's no whimsy or pretensions of pop stardom with Torres. Instead she channels PJ Harvey or early Tori Amos (in attitude, if not sound).
'Honey' is stunning - lo-fi production with just Torres and her trusted Gibson 335. The song bursts with overwrought emotion, the chorus' multi-layered vocals swarming into your ears, shaking your every fibre. There's a deep unhappiness apparent here, the song seeming cathartic in its muted anger. "Honey, while you were ashing in your coffee, I was thinking of telling you what you've done to me", the result is like pouring petrol on candlelight. "What ghost crawled inside my guitar?" she asks. It's a solid metaphor for the entire album, one that in places recalls Jeff Buckley's seminal Grace.
Given Torres follows a arc which comes apparent in the closing tracks, nothing really stands out as a potential single, and some of the tracks are longer than they ought to be, with elongated codas deflecting from the energy created. There are elements of indie-rock ('When Winter's Over') , pop-ballad ('Jealously and I') and folk ('November Baby' - a startlingly tense vocal performance backed by a single bass riff on the guitar).
Part of Torres' impact comes from the imagery in the lyrics, and the fact the production allows the focus to be on these lyrics gives it more impact. "If I don't find me I won't be searching anymore, as I am starving for the truth, so feed me something real while I've got youth in my veins", being an example.
Torres (the album) gets darker, moving from the soothing, upbeat 'Moon and Back' through the creepy chill of 'Come to Terms' before closer 'Waterfall' is packed with punch, as Torres (the artist) seems to contemplate suicide from the top of a waterfall. "From way up here it looks so calm, do you ever get half way down and think, God, I never meant to jump at all?"
Throughout, Torres reaches out to the listener, dragging them into the record. By observing her torment you become a bystander, a witness. It creates huge empathy and delivers a punch to the guts so real all you can do is go back to the start and press play again.
