Rachel Brashear
Songs from a Cave
(Self-released)
B+
Instead of saying the Oklahoma music scene is taking off, actually listen to it — especially that of a talented, local female artist like Rachel Brashear. The Oklahoma City singer-songwriter’s debut full-length is a good place to start, standing out in thanks to the powerful crooner’s talent as a lyricist. At first blush, Songs from a Cave is a drastic sonic departure from her previous releases, yet the conviction in her voice carries through songs old and new, along with lyrics that stick with you long after the song ended.
First cut “Ace Up Your Sleeve” finds Brashear staunchly dismissing those who try to label her: “Don’t cut that hair / Just wear these heels / Nobody asked you how to feel,” she croons, mocking those trying to define her. The album — and “Ace Up Your Sleeve” in particular — is quick-witted and perceptive. Brashear could be mimicking any number of things (the music industry, the way women are expected to be feminine, or even an ex), and it’s because of this complexity that the album continually succeeds. The personal feel — compositions relying mostly on the way her voice melds with the piano — only accentuate this fact, and Brashear’s vocal intonation makes her songs feel all the more intimate. Compositions beginning with a simple piano chord are taken even higher by her voice, casting an enticingly dreamy magnetism and endless playability.
While Songs from a Cave is a shift from her 2014 work, it’s less a complete reinvention than a simple shift in focus that showcases her versatility as an artist. Each song plays as a mini-manifesto, taking on different subjects in order to give listeners insight into who she is. “Into the Night,” for example, is assertive but still introspective: “I answer questions when they’re asked / I play the game / I do the work I have to do / I show the smile when they want me to.” Brashear delivers these lyrics so sweetly that it nearly conceals her anger and resentment.
“Cave Song” might be the record’s apex, her words oozing out as a slew of instruments crescendo behind her. (“I exist between two possibilities / With my fingers on strings.”) There’s a particular vulnerability exuded throughout, one that belongs to those who feel fragmented, but refuse to surrender. Songs from a Cave never feels weighed down or overproduced, and Brashear’s talent as a lyricist manifests when cleverly potent instrumentation supports her dynamic voice. It’s a statement album if nothing else — Brashear’s response to those trying to pin her down. And she succeeds in silencing them.
