Pricilla Ahn

Forget eyes — the voice is the window into the soul. We know people we’ve never met from the simple act of listening to them sing. From her first breath, Priscilla Ahn is there; she’s the girl who you could call "enchanting” and mean it, who wears a black dress with purple lining, who smiles with her eyes as much as her mouth. Subtle twists of pitch are her sly quirkiness, the straight delivery her strength, the slight wisp to her voice an underlying shyness. The songwriting is direct: "Dream” is an encapsulated journey through the wants of life, while "Wallflower” is the desire not to be alone in a crowded room. As a first album, it has that gangly, new-colt feel where all the legs aren’t moving quite together yet. There are a few strange bits of songwriting and a bit too much shifting of sound from instrument to instrument. But the voice is a continuous thread and for everything that it tells us about Ahn, there is the wonderful sense of more — more than we have heard, than we can hear and to come.