album review: 'american siren' by emily scott robinson

I think this might be my most anticipated album of 2021.

And I’m not sure it’s all that close either. When Emily Scott Robinson came out of the indie country scene to blow my mind so many times over with Traveling Mercies, I was convinced that I had heard one of the biggest new talents to break through that decade, and that album is among my top ten over that ten years. Not only was she an excellent singer with a sweetness that reminded me of Kacey Musgraves but with a command of atmosphere and a willingness to touch upon far darker subject matter, she was the sort of singer-songwriter that deserved the spotlight, even if none of it was guaranteed. It’s why, for full disclosure, I didn’t hesitate to back her when she launched a Kickstarter to fund this new album, one that met and exceeded its goals shockingly quickly.

And I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised when folks took notice. She got signed to the late John Prine’s Oh Boy Records, which led to a more robust promotional budget and suddenly it wasn’t just me throwing critical acclaim her way. And while I’m very tempted to say I was ahead of the punch here, it’s not about me here - I was just overjoyed to cover what could wind up one of my favourite country / folk albums of 2021 in what feels like an absolutely stacked year for those genres. That also meant I had sky high expectations - which after a quick relisten to Traveling Mercies feel absolutely justified - but I was also going in cold, mostly avoiding the singles to make sure I could take this all in. So did Emily Scott Robinson deliver?

Well, of course she did - and my god, it’s so thrilling to see an artist you think has sky-high potential deliver in spades in both meeting and in some cases surpassing my expectations - but American Siren is also a different animal than Traveling Mercies, and I’d argue it’s a more complicated listen. Traveling Mercies had a sense of momentum and motion throughout its runtime, which kept the pace up and while it touched some really dark subject matter, it felt more accessible as a whole. American Siren is darker, heavier, a bit slower, feeling more settled and textured within itself - can you tell it was written over the course of the past few years - and it pulls you deeper into its own atmosphere rather than taking you on a ride; fitting, given the themes Robinson described around the project and it allows American Siren to showcase utterly incredible high points, but it can be a tougher, slightly more demanding listen.

But part of that is rooted in the texture and approach to this album, which has a lot of subtlety and layers that can make it a little tough to quantify, especially in comparison with a lot of indie country that has that homespun texture. Here the edges feel rougher - the bass quivers, the deeper acoustics pick up more organic texture to accentuate the melodic tone, the organ and piano feel a little rougher around the edges, and once again the fiddles hit that precise immaculate balance of richness and ragged texture that I’ve always loved with her work. And it leads to so many subtly striking moments - how the strings and guitars rise out of the mist to the sandy skitter of the drums on ‘Things You Learn The Hard Way’ with a terrific fiddle solo, the pedal steel and wells of organ on ‘If Trouble Comes A Lookin’, the jaunty break of ‘Cheap Seats’ that fills the ‘White Hot Country Mess’ mold to lighten the mood, the sheer warmth of the arrangements on ‘Lost Woman’s Prayer’ and ‘Lightning In A Bottle’, and especially the acoustic plucks that interpolates ‘Taps’ at the end of ‘Hometown Hero’ which somehow might wind up working even better than if they had used a trumpet. But from there you’re also acutely aware just how much more air everything has to breathe, but while Traveling Mercies used that negative space to accentuate lonely journeys, this creates a much more enveloping sense of atmosphere where you’re aware of every creak and tremble, especially when it comes to Robinson’s voice where her sweet trilling vibrato is all the more present. I have to emphasize once again how wonderfully charismatic and expressive she is here, in both the brighter and infectious moments and the ones that’ll rip your heart out - but even then, with the touches of distinctively feminine backing vocals starting straight from ‘Old Gods’, the descriptor that keeps coming to mind is ‘mystical’. That separates her from a lot of country in this lane and places her closer to certain stripes of folk, but even then, her approach to texture feels unique: it’s not calling to old European antiquity in the same way, nor does it feel flighty or wound within glamours. No, the heaviness feels more grounded and lived in, with an American indie country flavour to its writing, where if the witch lived on the edge of town, she’s lived there for decades and there can be comfort in approaching her wisdom.

And that does feed into the writing as well, specifically surrounding themes and framing. Robinson has described the root of this album being in the things that call to us, the siren songs - specifically to women, as there’s this aura of divine feminine resonance to both themes and stylism that I haven’t really felt since a few songs on The Highwomen. And while of course Robinson is going to add real moral complexity by her level hand with framing - we’ll get to it - you get traces of that sense of magic by the first song ‘Old Gods’, which has the structure of a nursery rhyme but serves more of a reminder how much said rhymes were often appropriated from an older, pagan lineage. And the context of faith and that intangible tug is all over this album - some critics have framed this as loss of faith, but I’d say it’s closer to losing one’s religion and finding faith in something more resonant, especially when old systems show themselves unable to deliver. On the one hand you have the homespun, Lori McKenna-esque wisdom of ‘Things You Learn The Hard Way’ or the middle-aged love story of ‘Lightning In a Bottle’ where she reflects upon the ease of youth and how she nearly pushed it away and wonders what might have been lost if choices where different when love was magic, or leaning on the pleas of ‘Every Day In Faith’ that still call her there. But on the other hand you have ‘Hometown Hero’, where a small town guy who’s the pride of the town goes off to war in Afghanistan, comes back to try and live a normal life, but then commits suicide leaving children behind; it’s a tangled mess of moral uncertainties for which Robinson never shies away, but it highlights by their absence the systems that could have saved him. Keep in mind that Robinson has always had a knack for the small details that mask the gutputches and transgressions, and that’s just as true here, from sneaking off a dead-end restaurant shift to write songs on ‘Cheap Seats’, to the playful sisterhood and friendship of ‘Lost Woman’s Prayer’ to the cheating song of ‘If Trouble Comes A Lookin’ where instead of playing for darkness or angst, she highlights a remarkably romantic encounter between the married woman and the priest at a hotel bar and it’s almost playfully joyous in the sincerity of it all; not every infidelity is bound to end in shame. I’m frankly amazed she pulled off the balancing act of framing to make it feel so enticing where you wind up rooting for it, but again, it’s more losing one’s religion and finding a different, vibrant strain of faith.

And then there’s the album centerpiece, ‘Let Em Burn’. It’s a quaking, spare piano ballad where Robinson sings from the perspective of a married woman who sees her religion as empty ritual, her marriage as unfulfilling, and despite every constraint she put up around herself, this is the moment where it all breaks down. Again, the power of this song comes not just from the weight of history that the song feels and the fact that she might have gotten everything she told herself she wanted… but now she’s questioning everything, realizing that if she truly leaves everything could change including her and the weight of that unknown is even greater. The key line is ‘what if desire is a gift and not a sin’, the sort of line that is most deeply rooted in the modern feminine experience but is delivered so powerfully in context and execution that the resonance becomes transcendent. It’s the best song on the album, possibly the best song Emily Scott Robinson has written to date, and easily one of the best I’ve heard in 2021; it’s one of those songs that’ll move me to tears every time I hear it.

…which is why in my few criticisms of this album, I have to wonder why it’s placed so early in the track list, not even at the halfway point. This album already has some issues with momentum and ‘Let Em Burn’ is so striking that it probably could have been placed later on and it would have worked just fine! And I have other quibbles too - less of a focus on groove means the back half of this album can feel a bit slow, even if you are enraptured by the writing, I don’t love the organ line shuddering off the bass on ‘Every Day In Faith’ even if the bass and fiddle sound terrific, and like with Traveling Mercies, I’m not really a fan of the closer; I get why Emily Scott Robinson did a bluegrass-leaning cover of ‘Old North State’, the state toast for North Carolina, and in the context of the album it makes sense as a chipper closer that once again has her called home, but it feels a little too neat and tidy of an ending for a project that has so many moments where the conclusion is not yet known.

But I also know when I’m nitpicking, and this album is fantastic. The production is top notch, the delivery is excellent, and the songwriting can go toe-to-toe with anyone in any genre, a subtle and layered experience that still has real resonant power. I’m legitimately thrilled to see more people get onboard this year - it’s so well-deserved, but I’d also add that I think this could have resonance beyond just the indie country crowd. Some of that is because the overall quality is just that great, but with the subtle mystique and approach to these themes I could argue there are parallels you can make to a Fiona Apple or Neko Case - the Lilith Fair crowd would have adored this twenty plus years ago - where the siren call will take you to a place on the edge of another world, one familiar but also daring you to choose the unknown. And I don’t think I can add much more to any endorsement - 9/10, one of the best albums of 2021, Emily Scott Robinson knocked another one out the park, and you’re running out of excuses to not be onboard.