Daughter of Abraham

Langue disponible : anglais

Singer-songwriter Sandy Bailey's music is like an Americana Venn diagram of blues, gospel, folk and soul. It's also an exploration of what it's like to be biracial, working class, a single mom and—showing not telling here—an incredible talent. On the Bonnie Raitt-like "Already Down," Bailey sounds beyond world-weary while relating a tale about working a long shift at the grocery store, fretting over a crying baby, and selling prescription pills to survive. "On my way out the door/ Steal some milk and bread/ I need to get paid more/ They just raised my rent," she sings, her voice a study in impressive control: trembling yet sure, not a locomotive but possessing mysterious power. She unleashes the power a bit more on the warm country-rocker "Get the Message Through," fluttering and wavering and soaring over empathetic steel guitar and hits the falsetto on "Bottles of Emptiness" ("On the front porch with my morning coffee and cigarette/ Taking another swig from the magnum bottle when I'm done with this) which is all soulful blues and sacred Hammond organ. Ultimately, Bailey doesn't need to be flashy because she just sounds so good. There are shades of Norah Jones on "Waiting on Summer," with sizzling guitar as the wind beneath her wings, and Aretha on both “Got Nobody" and the country-soul-blues number "I Ain't Your Honey." Bailey used to sing in a Patsy Cline tribute band, Patsy Clone, and there are echoes of that legend on contemplative, rootsy "Time's Gonna Come."  "Dear John," a tribute to John Prine—a major influence on Bailey—has the most country twang, courtesy in part from her dad Jim's keening harmonica. And the title track is about an enslaved Black man leaving his wife and walking, under cover of night, from Carolina to Massachusetts, pursued by bounty hunters. "It was high crime in 1859/ For a Black man to be a human," Bailey sings as piano notes rock back and forth like Abraham's footsteps, from whom she takes inspiration: Keep on walking and follow your own North Star. © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz