In those moments of reckless abandon and unabashed displays of appreciation, metalheads will headbang, air-guitar or air-drum along to the tunes that make them move. But how do proponents of the indie rock that Jessica Dobson has on her CV (time spent with Beck, the Shins, Spoon and Yeah Yeah Yeahs; two records shelved by Atlantic before she was of legal age) display those incidents of musical delectation?
Fuck if I know—though, you’d think I would—but my mind’s eye has conjured groups of people paying salutary homage to Dobson’s voice with Jesus Christ/Chris Cornell/crucifixion poses as she ties the various moods of album number two (epic ballads, slanty post-punk, lo-fi quirks and spacey dance/punk) together with her salty rasp and smoky croon. Air-vocalizing?
Whatever. If you’re worried about standing out in a crowd, try more conventional air-axing to the dissonant chords she kneads into (college) radio-ready rock on “Notice Me” and “Wide Awake,” and leave it at that.
—Kevin Stewart-Panko
