Ear Pollution
 
I keep listening through Petracovich's Blue Cotton Skin -- which is really just Jessica Peters -- digging through the tracks in search of the point where her voice cracks; the part where she breaks down a little and lets out a quiet scowl or sneer to darken things up some. I listen attentively but it never happens and, strangely, I'm not disappointed. There is a soft radiance to this album that refuses to give in, and it makes listening to it all the more beautiful.

Named after her great-grandfather, Petracovich is almost exclusively Peters, with guitar and production work by Tad Wagner, and additional drumming by Andrew Giacumakis. The hum of vinyl scratches and childlike skips of piano in "Footsteps," the thumb piano in "Water House," Petracovich's sound is a hushed mixture of electro loops, bloops and bleeps cradled alongside Peters' soft, angelic voice. I'm reminded of Shivaree's chanteuse, Ambrosia Parsley, without the darkness, Tori Amos with her ego shrugged off, Rosie Thomas after a few glasses of scotch. Drums and other accompanying instruments slide in and out and Peters' voice rises occasionally with the hand claps in "That Bird's in Flight," or the keyboards in "Driving Home," but always settles serenely back into her trademark whispered singing.

As much as I find myself enamored to her voice, my favorite tracks here, however, happen to be the album's instrumentals. "Coyote and the Moon," with its melancholic piano and Theremin-like echoes; and the muted electronics of "Rosebud," whose distant harmonics sound like a wet finger being rubbed around the rim of a wine glass. Blue Cotton Skin is a subdued but lush escape, and Peters has created a wonderful collection of music that quietly begs to be pulled in and wrapped around you like a warm blanket around a welcome lover.

-Craig Young