Family Album

Idioma disponível: inglês

It would be all too easy to pigeonhole—if not outright mock—Lia Ices. The California-by-way-of-East Coast singer-songwriter describes the writing process of her fourth album as thus: She and her wine-maker husband were living on a place called Moon Mountain in Sonoma, California; she had to walk through a rose garden and an orchard to get to her home studio each day. With her ethereal looks and penchant for floaty dresses, she's the sort of stylish, Instagram-ready artist who (like Joanna Newsom or Bat for Lashes before her) attracts the attention of fashion magazines. But what naysayers miss about that pretty veneer is its value to so many women. It is an aspirational transport to a dream life, like getting lost in an Eve Babitz novel, falling deep into an Internet search of old Joan Didion photos, or just watching House Hunters International. Moreso, it would be a reductive mistake to let those covetable trappings define Ices, whose music is the real deal: wildly evocative, hypnotic and just plain great. Album opener "Earthy" starts off with simply plucked piano and Ices' distinctive voice, traveling effortlessly from songbird high notes to a display of incredible gravity, when, shortly before the two-minute mark, the whole thing warps for just a second, then kicks into a full-band rolling jam lightly laced with psychedelia. "I'm Gone" sounds like moving through a dream. Sharp-elbowed strings point the way, softly thrumming hand drums keep focus, and Ices' voice floats above it all like a weather system. "Beauty Blue," with its nervous percussion and anchoring piano, brings a hippie vibe to trip hop. "Anywhere At All"—all trilling flute and echo-chamber vocals—taps into the haunted melodies of Maharishi-era Beatles. There are easy feminine references to be drawn—Cat Power on "Earthy," Kate Bush on "Young on the Mountain," Tori Amos on "Careful of Love," Mazzy Star on the lovely "Hymn"—but god, what a compliment any one of those would be. Family Album is unashamedly ideal for road trips, yoga sessions, dinner-party soundtracks and, yes, California dreaming. © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz