Nashville-via-NYC songwriter Samia Najimy Finnerty's The Baby was one of 2020's more promising debuts, fitting in nicely with similar alternative folk-pop releases that spanned the decade's end from the likes of Clairo, Phoebe Bridgers, Faye Webster — and of course Taylor Swift, whose Folklore loomed over everything that year. Discerning fans of any of the above might feel a tad remiss to have passed over Samia, but redemption awaits — her anticipated follow-up Honey delivers just as well, swinging hard for the charts in a couple places but thankfully retaining the distinctive personality and wry humour that made The Baby so winning.
Finnerty's voice is wisely high in the mix once again, with more than a few tracks foregrounding it against minimal arrangements; it pierces achingly when it needs to — the autotune-touched "Breathing Song" might have you reaching for the volume, honestly — but mostly occupies a lower, thicker register that suits the sometimes heavy subject matter. Her phrasing rides her rhythms in unusual ways sometimes too, with syllables ending up in places you don't expect — a spilling-over that contributes to the intimate tone of the album.
As mentioned, there are two pretty successful stabs at more standardized, chart-oriented fare here — advance single "Mad at Me" and, tucked away at album's end, the rousing "Amelia." Finnerty inhabits both of these with ease, but it's hard to shake the feeling that anyone could have sung them (see list above). The true heart of Honey arguably beats in the more intimate, laid-back gems, from the delicately fingerpicked "For Me It Was" to the excellent "Sea Lions," with its unexpected indie-electronic turn that sounds plucked from some long-lost Postal Service record.
Honey takes a traditional, southern-tinged folk foundation and successfully ventures out in various modern directions, allowing her adroit lyricism to occupy a variety of spaces. The songs clearly meant to capture the largest number of listeners are perhaps the least interesting, but who among us hasn't found joy in the grand communitas of mass appeal? In any event, Finnerty returns from these loftier reaches unscathed, allowing Honey to swing big without flying off the handle. Spread this one on your toast immediately.
(Grand Jury)Finnerty's voice is wisely high in the mix once again, with more than a few tracks foregrounding it against minimal arrangements; it pierces achingly when it needs to — the autotune-touched "Breathing Song" might have you reaching for the volume, honestly — but mostly occupies a lower, thicker register that suits the sometimes heavy subject matter. Her phrasing rides her rhythms in unusual ways sometimes too, with syllables ending up in places you don't expect — a spilling-over that contributes to the intimate tone of the album.
As mentioned, there are two pretty successful stabs at more standardized, chart-oriented fare here — advance single "Mad at Me" and, tucked away at album's end, the rousing "Amelia." Finnerty inhabits both of these with ease, but it's hard to shake the feeling that anyone could have sung them (see list above). The true heart of Honey arguably beats in the more intimate, laid-back gems, from the delicately fingerpicked "For Me It Was" to the excellent "Sea Lions," with its unexpected indie-electronic turn that sounds plucked from some long-lost Postal Service record.
Honey takes a traditional, southern-tinged folk foundation and successfully ventures out in various modern directions, allowing her adroit lyricism to occupy a variety of spaces. The songs clearly meant to capture the largest number of listeners are perhaps the least interesting, but who among us hasn't found joy in the grand communitas of mass appeal? In any event, Finnerty returns from these loftier reaches unscathed, allowing Honey to swing big without flying off the handle. Spread this one on your toast immediately.
