Lizzy Farrall may have grown up in "a rural village in North Wales," but there is nothing remote or pastoral about her sound. On the Barbados EP, Farrall is swinging for the pop bleachers, without losing the rock and/or roll heart that beats in the midst of her music and keeps things from getting too glittery. Even the subtle vocal effects in a pre-chorus of the title track—a move that might mask other singers' transitions with technical pomp—serve as a subtle production touch that helps set up the more effusive and glorious aspects of the song's chorus. It's not masking a delinquency; it's serving the tune, straddling artifice and authenticity. That may sound grandiose, but it's actually just the effect of an artist taking control and care in their song craft.
All this sounds awfully highfalutin, and maybe I'm attempting a verbal back-bend to justify the sweetness at the core of her music without discounting the careful craft at play that balances the sweet with the sour (and in this case the sour is lyrical reality and authentic presentation—not an actual puckering of the ear canals).
Farrall is on tour right now and hits Chicago this weekend. It's an early show, so if you're reading this you're probably not part of the usual 17+ crowd 7 p.m. doors draw, but if that is the case I urge you to step outside your comfort zone and check Farrall out. The best thing that could happen is you walk away a fan, and the worst? You'll be out early enough to still grab drinks with friends or check out another gig elsewhere in town.
UPDATE: Farrall is no longer on the bill. I'll let you know if I hear of a rescheduled date for her.
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