Corrina Repp – The Pattern of Electricity

5 out of 5

Label: Caldo Verde Records

Produced by: Peter Broderick, Graeme Gibson and Evan Railton (tracks 5 and 6)

Swooning, haunting; I wasn’t quite sure what to expect from Corrina, having come to her via Tu Fawning via Joe Haege via 31 Knots.  And stepping from that to that, you’re still somewhat dabbling with music that flirts with rock – albeit of the indie variety.  So what of this solo outing?  …Which isn’t Corrina’s first by any means, and happens to be on a label featuring more muted acts of which I’m not too keen.  “The Beast Lives in the Same Place” starts off with a vaguely electro pulse to it, and Repp sways in with reverby, dreamy vocals.  Uh oh, I’m thinking, wondering if I’ve wandered into 80s-influenced acousti-chick stuff, because I’m the kind of guy that wonders about such things.

Here’s the thing: there are times I will criticize albums for repetitious structure or sounds; there are times where I’ll praise them for the same.  Intent is key.  ‘The Pattern of Electricity’ is an amazing management of intent, expressed through such subtlety that I found myself wrapped up and warmed by that pulse – a sound that generally signals stuff that’s not my bug – immediately.  The compositions here are so intensely layered but carefully so; the pieces laid bare in an expressive fashion without it ever getting overwhelming as the songs swirl about you, Repp’s somber lyrics kept at bay with the dash of hope in her voice and the swelling of strings or sudden conflagration of keys that caps off a song.  The 7-minute Pattern the Cuts / Calm Ass Mofo is a prime example of the sing-song ease with which the songs build on themselves, but especially with the misleadingly upbeat tones of Another Shape, which somehow sheds that impression over its runtime without really changing its tune…  The record is a mystery of such transformations, and it still gets me how willfully restrained the whole thing is.

I’m not really sure what to mention as touchpoints.  The music is fairly minimal, but as mentioned, its not exactly sparse.  And on the whole, the record feels like its comfortable taking its time to get where its going, but most of the tracks are of normal 2 – 3 minute length, and the record isn’t much longer than 30 minutes; it’s not a drag at all, more of a deliberate conversation, where the teller’s body language and hand motions are almost distractingly soothing.  Our producers and players find the right balance of depth for all the sounds.  Some type of musical pattern does feel like it emerges, that element of repetition I mentioned but didn’t clarify, but it seems all in service of bringing the listener under the record’s spell… one it casts with such confidence it’s hard to ignore, despite the muted nature of the music in general.