Kathryn Mohr's sophomore LP Carve came out last Friday.
Recorded alone in a trailer in the Mojave Desert, the album is sparse and sweltering as the landscape that incubated it. Warped field recordings hover above a bed of thick, distorted guitars. Her voice, layered in wavering harmony, brings to mind the brusque delivery of early Cat Power and PJ Harvey. Meanwhile, her lyrics leap out with knives and barking dogs, threats invoked in repeating patterns - for instance:
Again again, the very second I leave
A knife coming up from the ground
Clinging rung to rung up this ladder chasing
A pinpoint of light from above
Mohr's songwriting dwells in a state of limbo, the Sisyphean climb and the present participle, and dares to face those patterns in which we lose ourselves, again and again.
Order Carve on Black or Coke Bottle Clear with Burgundy Splatter vinyl; cream marble cassette; or CD now:
