Eve Adams has a soft, carrying voice, one that commands the swirl and sweep of her songs effortlessly, at a murmur. There’s a cool, unharried elegance to her delivery, a remove. Nothing surprises her in these elliptical, occasionally lurid sketches — whether of late-night carousing, a fatal love affairs or climate apocalypse. The comparisons to Julee Cruise only go so far. They fail to account for the endearing catch, the bluesy growl in the way she’ll accent a vocal line, but you can see where they come from.
This is Adams’ second full-length, following 2021’s Metal Bird, a more conventional work of dusky Americana. Here, though surrounded by the sounds and textures of twang, she establishes an urbane, unruffled presence.