10 Songs, 51 Minutes

EDITORS’ NOTES

This remarkable debut by 21-year-old Torres—a.k.a. Mackenzie Scott—is an intimate, spare collection. Yet it exudes a surprisingly emotional wallop, like an otherwise silent skeleton in the proverbial closet. Based in Nashville, Scott easily stands apart. She paints stories with whispered despair, murmured confessionals, and raw, straight-to-the-core declarations using little more than guitar and her unusual voice: powerful, taut, and fragile all at once. Repeating and building phrases into shattering codas, dropping from a howl to broken moan in a swoop, extending one syllable into a raft of notes, Scott's constructs and singing style are a beautiful match for her marvelous lyrical dexterity. "This skin hangs on me like a lampshade/keeping all my light at bay," she sings hauntingly on "November Baby," fingerpicking her Gibson. "Your crooked smile/your gap teeth/your widow's peak." She exhales a litany of things she misses so deeply her longing is palpable. Lulling ballads are faintly adorned with strings, distorted keyboard notes, and wisps of percussion throughout this lovely piece of work.

EDITORS’ NOTES

This remarkable debut by 21-year-old Torres—a.k.a. Mackenzie Scott—is an intimate, spare collection. Yet it exudes a surprisingly emotional wallop, like an otherwise silent skeleton in the proverbial closet. Based in Nashville, Scott easily stands apart. She paints stories with whispered despair, murmured confessionals, and raw, straight-to-the-core declarations using little more than guitar and her unusual voice: powerful, taut, and fragile all at once. Repeating and building phrases into shattering codas, dropping from a howl to broken moan in a swoop, extending one syllable into a raft of notes, Scott's constructs and singing style are a beautiful match for her marvelous lyrical dexterity. "This skin hangs on me like a lampshade/keeping all my light at bay," she sings hauntingly on "November Baby," fingerpicking her Gibson. "Your crooked smile/your gap teeth/your widow's peak." She exhales a litany of things she misses so deeply her longing is palpable. Lulling ballads are faintly adorned with strings, distorted keyboard notes, and wisps of percussion throughout this lovely piece of work.

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