There’s something in the water in Nevada City. First the place turns out Joanna Newsom, maybe the most interesting female folk singer of her time, and now Alela Diane, who, with her third proper solo record (she also has two self-released albums from 2003 and 2004), Alela Diane & WIld Divine, is finally living up to all the hype she saw early on. Her past record, To Be Still, was a solid affair that landed her support gigs with The Decemberists, Iron & Wine, Akron/Family, Tom Brosseau and, most fittingly, outsider folk legend Vashti Bunyan. Mostly, Still felt like a starter record – an artist finding their voice and taking steps towards perfecting it. Her latest album is – or, maybe I should say, will likely be – her big introduction to indie music fans around the world, a 10-song, 38-minute piece of songwriting bliss that feels like buzz-worthy listen from the first spin.
I first heard of Diane back in 2007, via an interview she did with Gang of Four’s Dave Allen, who is a fan of Diane. At the time she was seemingly shy, certainly humble and basically the very definition of fresh faced – all things she still seems to be today. But by getting out on the road, touring and simply working on her craft, she’s grown into a singer/songwriter who maybe already deserves to be mentioned alongside contemporary artists like Tift Merritt, Kim Richey, Julie Doiron, Tiny Vipers, Allison Moorer, Basia Bulat, Jana Hunter, Newsom and even maybe Devendra Banhart (in spirit, if not so much sound). If you’re looking for a quick, clean reference, I’d probably go with Jana Hunter, who has released a handful of great, overlooked records over the last five years. And if you don’t know Hunter, then maybe someone more obvious, like Cat Power or even a legend like Karen Dalton. Sweet voice. Strong compositions and, maybe most of all, excellent vocals whose impression grows more impressive upon the listener with each spin.
Really, though, Diane has her own voice. There are moments that remind of that mid 2000s freak folk fad; there are songs (like “Of Many Colors,” for example) that almost start to feel like classic era Neil Young; and there are straightforward moments like “Heartless Highway” that fall out of the speakers feeling as timeless and immediate as anything on one of Bonnie Raitt or Joni Mitchell’s classic records. What stands out most is maybe not those twangy vocals (Diane just doesn’t have the range, style or diversity of modern masters like, say, Jenny Lewis or Fiona Apple) or even the lyrics, but the way Diane puts her songs together. Similar to one-time Whiskeytown howler Caitlin Cary, Diane seems to have a preternatural knack for putting together dusty, fully formed tunes that arrive with no fat, no drag. A song like “Suzanne,” before it even ends, feels as familiar as songs we’ve all been listening to for years.
But Wild Divine is not without its shortcomings. While Diane seems to have all the traits needed to make a classic record, she still lacks that thing. That inherent thing that makes great artists great artists. When I listen to modern vocal masters like Ryan Adams, Jenny Lewis or Jeff Tweedy, it’s just there, in every line – a wholly original, nuanced genius that stands alone. Even when they’re screwing around, it’s there, mastery of their craft. If Diane can keep moving forward, artistically speaking, I think she could very well find her unique appeal. Until then, we’ll just have to settle with an incredibly talented young lady who has almost all the right pieces to the puzzle, Alela Diane & Wild Divine standing as her best-yet work, and a record that’s worth spending some time getting to know.
70/100
