Here She Comes
Blood of the Young Records
There are some albums that can’t be sliced into pieces, every cut put underneath a microscope. All of Radiohead’s LPs after their “Creep”-dominated debut are like that. Pink Floyd, PJ Harvey and Nick Cave at their artistic highs can be classified in a similar fashion. There are records with songs on them and then there are albums with a capital A, which is where this haunting beauty from Rykarda Parasol comes in. This is one glum album, Gothic in its black-clad intensity but with an old-fashioned link to the blues.
Parasol has a wounded yet powerfully sensual and highly mysterious voice. She sounds like a character in a film-noir picture, one that would leave lipstick on a matchbook, walking away in street fog as unsolved deaths mount in the city. There is something about a voice this ominous that is irresistibly attractive. Not since Diamanda Galas have I heard a female singer that commands the dark clouds as well as Parasol does. Well, she’s certainly not as confrontational as Galas, but she has the same weight in her vocals as if she’s carrying hidden pain. She also recalls Kendra Smith of Opal, another band that took a distinctly American approach to their Gothic inspirations.
Rykarda Parasol: www.rykardaparasol.com