Springtime Carnivore Is the Perfect Thanksgiving Palate Cleanser

Turkey’s great and all, but you can’t eat it 365 days a year. Bear this in mind, Americana fans, as I present you with an artist who trades in synthed-up, psychedelic lady-pop. After stuffing your face with Thanksgiving staples/rootsy tunes, Springtime Carnivore–the “nom de tune” of multi-instrumentalist and vocalist Greta Morgan–is like a caprese salad served with a Pimm’s Cup (and maybe a tab of ecstasy).

Morgan’s faux bio is twee as can be. In it, she claims to have suffered a “metaphorical injury” while performing with a touring circus, which forced her to “rediscover the old family piano.” Onstage, she cracks jokes in a  high-pitched Valley Girl patois about her poofy peach-colored sleeves and dressing up as Kurt Cobain for Halloween. The whole pose would be incredibly annoying if her music wasn’t so goddamn great.

Springtime Carnivore’s self-titled debut, released earlier this month, is divided into two “sides,” even on CD. That, again, would seem overly precious, except that Morgan has taken great care in assembling the album in a manner which justifies such a dividing line. Side one is highlighted by a pair of bouncy, fuzzed-out doo-woppers, “Collectors” and “Name on a Matchbook.” Side two is more layered and rangy, featuring the dreamy “Two Scars” and “Talk to Me Slow,” as well as  the marvelous “Keep Confessing.” With Prince-like verses and a Go-Go’s chorus, it’s simply one of the most dynamic indie-pop tracks recorded this year–by anyone.

Live, Springtime Carnivore is the truth. Flanked by two brunette guitarists and a virtually invisible male drummer, Morgan, a blonde who looks a bit like Tift Merritt, handily won over a crowd that had come to see the headlining Generationals at The Crocodile in Seattle a couple of weeks back. Her vocal range is phenomenal and she misses no notes. Hipster-pandering peccadillos aside, Morgan is a confident performer who knows exactly what she wants to do musically–and she sounds like nobody else.