Just four songs. One EP. The songs are not even titled, marked merely I, II, III, IV. A woman’s voice sweeps and swoops and there are hints of other musicians to be sure—Antony Hegarty, Ani DiFrano, PJ Harvey—but in the end, you are wrapped up inside the voice of one Anna B. Savage. Each song is a dark and dusky gem of pain, heartbreak, courage, and fear. Her voice embraces you even as her words skewer and cut, drawing blood. This is an artist you cannot ignore, whose songs run deep and raw.
You will, I suspect, either love or hate her work. I do not expect that she leaves much middle ground. I am, already, after one song, in love with this woman and her words and her voice and her guitar and I cannot not share this with the world. After a long silence, after feeling I have little to say and nothing useful to add to this space, I knew I had to write something. Even if very few ever come across this post, every one of them should know this: if you listen to Anna B. Savage you will be changed and you will feel and you will be enriched.