For Blood and Wine
Rykarda Parasol has a helluva voice, no doubt about it — deep, throaty, dusty, and laden with a sinister gravitas and murderous intent belying her age and waif-like appearance. I expected her to look somewhere between a grizzled Marianne Faithful and Jarboe! She delivers her material with a conviction and, yeah, menace worthy of Nick Cave (the constant comparison), Siouxsie at her most imperious, and the aforementioned Marianne Faithful, with a bit of the ubiquitous Chan Marshall in there. She casts her tales of deceit and devotion over a backdrop of lonesome Americana and Bad Seeds-esque cabaret that, while a lush and evocative vehicle for her postcards from the edge, are a little too derivative of Nocturama-era Bad Seeds or Tindersticks to really lift the material to the necessary level of transcendence. So it’s perfectly serviceable music, but the attention starts to wander halfway through. And Parasol needs a few more years and a few more traumas. Then she’ll be a force to reckon with.
Rykarda Parasol: www.rykardaparasol.com