Larkin Grimm: Parplar

Label: Young God

For those of you who thought the freak-folk movement was missing a dollop or two of genuine freakiness, Larkin Grimm is your girl. On Parplar, her Young God debut, Grimm, the product of Appalachian hippie cult parents and a Yale education, veers from unbelievable beauty to ghoulish spookiness. The gorgeous and sparse loneliness of opener “They Were Wrong” aches and soothes simultaneously, but is interrupted by the ferocious gallop of “Ride That Cyclone,” letting you know that this forest is inhabited not just by fairies and unicorns but also by goblins and sex-starved witches. In fact, on “Blond and Golden Johns” she sounds exactly like a witch (or what I imagine them to sound like). She is able to vary, from track to track, between the sound of a kind and loving mother, an excited cult leader, and a heartbroken lover, each voice authentic and firmly rooted. Grimm is no tourist. She’s a vagabond anarchist folkie, for real, and the music is just as real, raw, and beautiful as a result. (Travis)