The Little Death - The Little Death

Genre bluegrass Publisher Gowanus Sound Initiative External Links

Have you ever wondered what would happen if Murder by Death ,The Dresden Dolls and Janis Joplin got into a horrific car accident that somehow had their respective sounds slammed into each other at a high rate of speed? If so, then let me tell you sir or lady, I have an answer for you.

The Little Death.

On dirty roads and in dusty bars, this is where The Little Death could call home, these stomping grounds of the wasted and weary. Yet there is a lighthearted lilt in the voice of Laura Dawn, the lady singing these sad songs, these calls to drunks and wenches alike to mend their wicked ways lest a boot be put betweens. Leaving her politics on the outskirts of the city, Miss Dawn traverses the well worn road of booze hounds and never fair ladies with the sort of aplomb one would expect to hear on the radio in 1972. In 2010, though, its a bit of shock to hear this kind of raw energy come spilling forth from the speaker set.

What gets me more than the initial period of adjustment to such a retro minded album is that one of the marquee names responsible for the music therein is Moby. Wait, you might be saying to yourself, what? Moby? That anemic looking little vegan beat maker who has been mildly amusing the glow stick kids for decades, producing better music than a person who is as uninteresting as he is has any right to make? Yes, I would say back, just as shocked that I was saying it, that very one. On his 2005 release, Hotel, Dawn was a featured vocalist and it would appear as if a fruitful friendship was formed. From there, the singer's husband, Daron Murphy, an accomplished composer and musician was recruited and Aaron A. Brooks was decided upon as the man best to beat the skins. Given this pedigree, they seem to me to be A Perfect circle for the broken beer bottle brigade.

There is a vocal ferocity at work here that is a perfect complement to the absolutely incredible music backing Dawn up, a combination that comes barreling down on you just a bit heavier with each song that passes. Its roots are set deeply in the past, yet have a definite sense of moving forward, the promise of closure as the sun sets on another heartache a dream worth reaching for.  "I Know You" is a song of such staggering power, so simple in its structure, its layout and its lyrics yet it accomplishes something very few songs do. Impact. There is a dent in my heart and it is from the strained lamentations of the voice that just wants someone to know that they aren't getting away with it this time. Not again. "Love and a Gun" is the most fun I've had sitting still all year, a very evocative little ditty that should get you shaking something with some sort of enthusiasm.

The Little Death's debut album, an eponymous one, is a rare treat. One that is firmly rooted in the past and yet doesn't sound like it belongs anywhere else but right here, right now, in this place.