FAY, cloaked, damaged, returns from the DIN of her toolroom. Alone now, far beyond the Pit Er Pat of her past, she travels on, further down the path, as she wanders, elegantly, in a self-deforming cast. She remains internally playful, but the hooks are out – no more talking with her body, eating with her mouth.
We are treated to only a few self-referential vocal mumbles – memories of a time when Ms. Davis-Jeffers could speak with a little more verbal eloquence. All we get here is “Special hats, sex hats” and, much later, “One last thing before this life, before this knife.” Any other vocal elaboration is nixxed in favor of naive rhythmic maneuvers. Everything else is streamlined. No fluff, nothing cushy – a couple of flighty moments remain disjointed enough to be thematically cohesive.
It’s the naivety that keeps me listening, though. I don’t really care if it is on purpose or what. Apparently, there’s some talk of composing the album “visually,” without care for sequencers or quantization. No doubt anyone could pick up on that element. But the spirit of play is what really comes out in the listening experience. Strangely, each broken beat brings the listener’s mind with it – fractured in a million directions, Deathwatch is clearly for YOU + ME to “enjoy.”
Available now from Time No Place – and stream right here.