Laura Veirs – Carbon Glacier

Some inhabitants of the Pacific Northwest feel it is not a geography, but rather an energy. Something about gray skies, rain, foggy mountains and tall Douglas firs imparts a sense of mystery, a Zen-like awareness. Much of the music that comes from the Northwest is steeped in this same energy, but few have rendered it with such lyrical clarity as Laura Veirs has on Carbon Glacier.

“Come with me, we’ll head up north/Where the rivers run icy and strong,” she invites with her warm plucking and inviting voice on the album’s opener, “Ether Sings”. Her imagery is enigmatic and heavy on the elements: Waves crash, seagulls fly, boulders appear, roses bloom, she and her brother camp out in the snow.

Vocally, Veirs’ nearest kin may be Liz Phair, in her annunciation and grad-school leanings. But musically, this album is a territory all its own. Veirs has eschewed verse-chorus-verse folk music and allowed her stream-of-consciousness words and unstructured chord progressions to stand their ground.

Veirs has been criticized for the lack of emotion she exudes while singing. But with Carbon Glacier, she has crafted an emotionally frigid record on which her icy vocals can feel at home.