The Auditory

A few weeks ago, I was going to a show at Mercury Lounge in New York.  I got there early, and had planned on just grabbing a drink at the bar with some friends, while we waited for the show.  There was an early show that night, and it was just about over—but we could still hear the music at the bar.  I knew after only a minute of listening to the faint sounds that floated through the doorway that this act was something I wanted to see.

It turned out to be folk songstress Marissa Nadler.  Nadler has been receiving a lot of positive attention for her new, self-titled album, and rightfully so—her music is hauntingly beautiful.  Despite the quiet nature of both her playing and her voice, Nadler kept the crowd’s attention with ease.  Nadler’s subdued personality and playing seemed to set a trance over the entire room; the majority of the crowd remained motionless and quiet during her set, breaking only for enthusiastic applause. Nadler also performed with a cellist, whose talents added greatly to the melancholy nature of her music.

Comparisons to Elliott Smith and Nick Drake seem almost too easy, but are extremely appropriate for both Nadler’s music and personality.  Much like Smith and Drake, Nadler seems to be a shy, unassuming person, and writes in a similar vein.  Nadler also carries on the tradition of the tender, whispered vocals that are attributed to both men.  Like both artists before her, Nadler captures an audience’s attention by being neither flashy nor loud—but instead, accomplishes this task by being both tender and true.

-Leah Creary