At what point does a song stop being a song? Strip away the beat, harmony and narrative; leave behind a voice, a melody, a few repeated words, the hiss of a phone recording. Merryn Jeann’s Fear of the Beauty Parlour seems fascinated by precisely that threshold.
Jeann has never been particularly interested in conventional singer-songwriting. In the Australian artist’s music, the voice can transform into an instrument, a simple melody can suddenly break off, and an intimate story can give way to a field recording, a strange synth sound or a seemingly random noise. On Dog Beach, producer Rob Ellis helped her organise these eccentric ideas; on her second album, Jeann takes control of the production herself.

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