Julie Beth Napolin

On her new album Julie Beth Napolin (Citay, Meridians) weaves the kind of mercurial folk spell that leads to whispered-about reputations. It’s the kind of album that will enchant the initiated and elude those that missed it years down the road, tantalizing collectors of ‘70s folk arcana and aughts revivalists. Far from a showcase of solo strums and voice, the record dips its head deep into cosmic waters, layering diaphanous synths, flute, and cavernous guitars. Napolin has a way of creating a sound that envelops the listener, voices overlapping, guitars echoing from ear to ear. It’s headphone folk at its finest — a record for late nights and lone candles.

Though Napolin is not entirely lone on this outing, surrounding herself with friends and likeminded travelers, including Tom Carter (Charalambides), Diego González (The Dry Spells, Citay), and David First (Notekillers) among others. The album opens like moonflower, eyes towards the night sky, saturated in a cold humidity that runs down the spine. The album arcs, opening with the relatively grounded title track that finds her sparring strings with Carter, running tension over the teeth. By “Pray for the Living” the walls have begun to grow around the listener and the web of wonders has been strung. From there the record becomes more and more dense, a delightfully saturated seance that draws the listener into its maze. The closer, “Heaven and Earth” slips around the skull with a titanic grandeur, swaying on layered vocals and the glorious hum of Eric Bayless-Hall’s synths. Napolin’s solo debut speaks to her patience conjuring it into existence, a potent brew watched over until it intoxicates the soul.

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