The Concussive Caress, Or, Casey Caught Her Mom Singing Along With the Vacuum

Album Review

Listening to The Concussive Caress feels much like listening to the soundtrack of an amiable, slightly goofy independent short film that focuses more on reflective states of mind than a plot. Khaela Maricich, who recorded and produced this album herself (with guest appearances by half a dozen friends), gets a lot from a little, using moody, pulsating lo-fi electronic tones and rhythms to back her ruminations, which strike a balance between the wistful and the matter of fact. In some respects it's like listening to one-half of a disjointed telephone conversation, with top-of-the-head-sounding lyrics that often yearn for or comment on intimacy, romantic or otherwise. It's not all electronic, with well-placed interjections of piano and strings, and it's not as inaccessible as the above description might make it out to be, as Maricich's tunes and vocal delivery have a light singalong feel. In spirit this is akin to an early-21st century continuation of the angularity of the Raincoats and the spare electro-rock burbles of the Young Marble Giants. Yet there's more of an isolated, bouncing-around-a-desert-cave feel to the Blow's oddness, though at its peak, as on "Gravity (Pauline's Response to Amy)" and "The Warriors' Hearts," it evokes both throbbing passion and morning-after-the-bomb melancholy.