EMA - Past Life Martyred Saints

EMA’s second album to date, ‘Past Life Martyred Saints’, comes to listeners as surprisingly whole document. EMA has developed a very distinct aesthetic, blending elements of rock and roll with both hi and lo-fi recording techniques to create a sonic palate all her own.

Although EMA, aka Erica M. Anderson, has already developed her performing and recording chops with the well received band Gowns, she has abandoned some of that band’s more ramshackle tendencies in favor of a tighter, harsher, and more industrial sound.

On album highlights and openers ‘The Grey Ship’ and ‘California’ Anderson is able to balance perfectly between pop and experimental music. ‘The Grey’ ship begins with a casual strum and catchy melody that can be seen as a nod toward her previous work with Gowns, but halfway through the song there is a shift from lo-fi to hi-fi, and the song pushes off into open waters. Unexpectedly, the blend of drums, guitar, and synthesizer manages to sound both placid and roiling simultaneously. Above churn and chug soars Anderson’s voice, which begins the song airy and with a certain tremble and transitions with the music into a veritable yawp.

‘California’ also exemplifies EMA’s willingness to experiment with her voice as well as her music. The majority of the song is executed in a forceful sing-speak that acts well to capture the aggravation embodied by the song’s lyrical concerns with the struggle of youthful identity and displacement. Yet, at key points Anderson breaks from this delivery and actually sings, letting her voice rise into a higher and more soulful register. These moments highlight EMA’s control of almost every stylistic component of her music.

Unfortunately for Ms. Anderson, her lyrics often don’t match her musical aptitude. Drawing on teenage angst, her songs often touch on a real frustration and disgust frequently experienced in adolescence but the underlying instrumentation supercedes this topic. Songs like ‘California’ capture this emotional range well enough that it doesn’t need be explored with the frequency EMA deems fit. Lyrically, the middle of this album becomes a morass of seeming internal and external loathing that would befit a more juvenile artist. There is a discrepancy between EMA’s maturity as a musician and her maturity as a lyricist.

Musically EMA is able to weave together guitar riffs, feedback, and synthesizer drones to create a significant level of sonic drama. Throughout the majority of her songs EMA eschews traditional verse/chorus/verse structure in favor of slow builds and a increased levels of distortion that are somewhat reminiscent bands that are often labeled ‘post-rock.’ Like those bands, she is able to formulate songs that are melodic, churning, and propulsive. Both ‘Marked’ and ‘Breakfast’ are wonderfully poised between both pop and drone sensibilities. They are each hypnotic and melodic and in an unexpected fashion, catchy. Be somewhat prepared to catch yourself singing the line ‘I wished that every time he touched me, he left a mark,’ and feeling a little uncomfortable.

Throughout ‘Past Life Martyred Saints’, EMA manages a consistent level of experimentation. On ‘Coda’ she flirts with the tradition of Appalachian hymnals. At roughly six and a half minutes, album closer Red Star begins with a slow and backwards recording of a solo guitar and eventually slips into a riff-heavy anthem that should have audiences shouting ‘red star!’ at the top of their lungs.

Additionally, this album functions as an interesting example of gender in the indie rock community. Throughout the album, EMA portrays emotions of joy, frustration, anger, hurt, and growth, but never are these feelings constrained to a specifically classic pop-music feminine perspective. Regardless of whether EMA is portraying herself as instigator or wounded party, her musical acumen and delivery always create an image of strength. The constant of strength of attitude is present whether Anderson is bellowing on the albums ultimate song, singing lullabies on ‘Breakfast,’ or practically croaking through ‘Marked.’

Gender in the indie rock community can be a complicated thing. Often solo female artists are treated as chanteuses, lovelorn folk singers, sufferers of heart-break, cute-harmonisers (see any twee-labeled band of the last decade) or mythic personalities. Bat for Lashes is treated as a mystic, Bjork as brilliant and beyond reproach, Best Coast as adorably addled and boy-concerned, Jemina Pearl as a bratty protagonist.

Yet EMA’s entry into this cannon falls alongside recent releases such as tUnE-YaRds’ ‘w h o k i l l’. tUnE-YaRds’ uniquely brassy and rather androgynous voice and EMA’s engagement with a predominantly male sub-genre of drone music contribute to the power of these artists. The unique strength of self and vision that underlies each song is a product of each artists’ willingness to engage with the complications of their personalities. Both of these artists have developed distinct musical aesthetics that demand a listener recognise their strength of music and character, a unique accomplishment that transcends the possibility of pre-existing indie music niches for women in music.