Angel Olsen, a fan favorite among folk straddlers. A new voice for women of the folk persuasion. She tantalizes the audience and instagram followers with her chicanery and vintage charm. Her short rockabilly bangs and flair for couture fashion. I first heard Angel as I was randomly visiting the jagjaguwar website which I’d discovered upon hearing Jaguar Ma for the first time and was delightfully surprised by the post-modern usage of the term jaguar – a quintessential animal in Mexican folklore and culture. Who can forget the apocalypto scene in which the lead bro escapes his death through cunning and device. It was something out of a James Bond film.
In any event, Angel’s boyish face leapt out at me as if I’d arranged the meeting myself. She sang ‘come on, kiss me, hold me tight’ without a grueling monicker and such that it trickled down the nape of my neck like a drop down a leaf. As she stood on the top of the car with her out-of-date music equipment, I gripped the edge of my realspace PRO office chair and rubbed my fingers through my hair only to repeat the gesture on the bulge of my chin. What finer specimen of women rocker, I thought, “this one is a star”. I call ’em like I see em. How shameful that only now do I have the pretense to give her her due. It must have been the endless repeats of “lights out” her soulful ballad off of her debut album- perhaps the real reason why I’ve come to write this blog post. The song is a simple Johnny Cash Tribute, but sung to a young man whose desires may be unfounded or ill advised. She serenades with the patience and soft spokenness of someone who may have had more than a few run ins with guys like this. I know this girl, I thought.
My first real crush was on a girl just like this, and she never let me forget it. This is a girl who never lets her emotions get the best of her; plays it cool at every stop; She preys on men who are just the opposite. The men who casually stroll in and stroll out. The men who are there one minute, gone the next; the men who pay more attention to their eye-frames than to the scent of the company he keeps. I think it’s fair to say that Angel has taken a backseat in this romantic horror show. But enough about me.
Now, if only I had the spare change to buy myself a nice copy.
I don’t use spotify because it is a bane on the existence of artists everywhere.