Faun Fables
Family Album (Drag City) Somewhere to the left of folk, but not as far left as filk, Oakland’s Dawn McCarthy is eking out her own niche as Faun Fables. She calls her musical hybrid “song-telling,” a handy, descriptive phrase for a most unusual approach. Sounding at once tribal and ethereal, the lengthy “Eyes of a Bird” sets the sometimes Björk-like tone of Family Album in a storybook direction. “Poem 2” sweeps away all that for crystalline harmonies, which is in turn vanquished by the chantlike “A Mother and a Piano.” It’s a most curious world of theatrical sound that McCarthy creates with the help of partner Nils Frykdahl (“Lucy Belle”), like a lost Bertolt Brecht soundtrack in Sinéad O’Connor’s hands (“Mouse Song”). The quirky nature of ballads like “Joshua” and “Old and Light” are balanced with snippets of children’s voices that lend an even more fey feel to the music. McCarthy’s arresting voice is the strongest thread in Faun Fables’ material, taut but not high-strung. When the tales of Family Album falter, however, they do so in an uncomfortable, self-conscious manner. The songs are not overly hum-worthy nor do they seem radio-friendly, yet it’s clear Faun Fables is more interested in tuning in brainwaves than cluttering up airwaves. That’s OK, McCarthy is clearly a bard out of time. (Thursday, March 18, midnight @ Blender Balcony at the Ritz)
This article appears in March 19 • 2004.