Eight Belles Music
It’s been said of Eight Belles, the fallen filly whose name and legacy Jessi Phillips and her band have wrapped themselves in, that “she ran with the heart of a locomotive on champagne glass ankles.” That dichotomy applies to the music on Girls Underground, too, in particular to Phillips’ voice, a force of nature that bowls you over from the first time she opens her mouth on the stunning, delicately strummed intro to “Buried Child,” an impressionist collage of images played out over a guitar figure that owes as much to Nick Drake as Loretta Lynn, and doesn’t let you up again until the mournful kiss off of “Most of the Time” has plead its case. “They don’t care if you live or die,” the chorus goes, “and neither do I, most of the time.”
B. Hamilton
AMPLIFIERS AND DRUMS FROM OAKLAND.
Eight Belles Music
It’s been said of Eight Belles, the fallen filly whose name and legacy Jessi Phillips and her band have wrapped themselves in, that “she ran with the heart of a locomotive on champagne glass ankles.” That dichotomy applies to the music on Girls Underground, too, in particular to Phillips’ voice, a force of nature that bowls you over from the first time she opens her mouth on the stunning, delicately strummed intro to “Buried Child,” an impressionist collage of images played out over a guitar figure that owes as much to Nick Drake as Loretta Lynn, and doesn’t let you up again until the mournful kiss off of “Most of the Time” has plead its case. “They don’t care if you live or die,” the chorus goes, “and neither do I, most of the time.”
B. Hamilton
AMPLIFIERS AND DRUMS FROM OAKLAND.
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