As soon as Week of Grace begins pouring from the speakers you know that you are on to something a bit special here. Special in that, far from being just another singer-songwriter, indie girl with guitar, or in this case guitarist, August instead seems to build music from fractured emotions, deep thoughts and sad realities. She has the ability to shimmer like the light catching broken glass, chime like distant church bells in the deep of night and ooze lyrics which are as much about the voice as an instrument as they are about communication.
There is a wonderful blend of light and shade, of lushness and minimalism, hazy warmth and sharp edges that evokes bands such as The Sundays or Mazzy Star at their most minimalist, that same honesty, the same openly worn emotions. Musically August wanders between the enigmatic and the unutterably beautiful, uses simple guitar chords to frame her words, is sometimes direct and sometimes you feel that you are accidentally listening in to a very personal conversation. Never has so little gone so far.
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