Breaking The Carbon Glacier

where we talk Laura Veirs

In every â??sceneâ?? there are individuals who bother themselves with peer issues. They care, excessively, about why people do things or say things and this affects the way they pursue their art. Though you may think this is predominantly a mainstream music phenomenon, indie music too has its share of gossip folk. More so in fact because its communities are close knit, and â??mediaâ?? coverage is the product of yuppie bloggers with loads of free time. This makes it very difficult to be a â??uniqueâ?? artist, if youâ??re someone who doesnâ??t really have much to say. Apart from the music.

Laura Veirs has never been one for the public eye. A product of careful abstinence from the hype machine and a spelunking, outdoorsy lifestyle, sheâ??s not obscure in as much as she is little known. Her peers include such decidedly better recognized names as Feist, Cat Power and Emily Haines which makes her a sucker for music press comparison love. But Ms Veirsâ?? music holds a uniqueness that is refreshing. Itâ??s not in how her music plays or in the way in which she constructs her songs. Itâ??s bracing in what the songs end up meaning to the listener.

Her eponymous debut (Laura Veirs, 1999) was a self-released affair. It was tough, terribly emotional and featured just her with a guitar. Bootlegs of the same are tough to find, even on the internet. She then began to expand her musical base, and even though her next album (The Triumphs And Travails of Orphan Mae, 2001) was also self released, it saw her playing with more instruments and experimenting with greater styles. By the time she released her first album on a respectable label (Carbon Glacier, 2004, Nonesuch Records) she had fashioned her chic, one that was as flexible as it was definite.

While artists like Devendra Banhart and Sufjan Stevens delve into the social intricacies of community, Laura Veirs confines herself to more ethereal themes. The song â??Parisian Dreamsâ?? from the album Year of Meteors comes off sounding more a poem than a song. Veirs bares her soul creating brilliant visuals of the sea and its creatures. She talks about urban love in a way that would make Patti Smith proud. Year of Meteors did much to make Veirs indie folk staple. It was dreamy, relying heavily on imagery. â??Fire Snakesâ?? used little acoustic trickery to craft an instantly loveable song. She proceeds to â??punk upâ?? her sound, using aggravated guitars and crashing cymbals on songs like â??Through The Glowâ?? and â??Cool Watersâ??. All at once the listener is treated to unlikely folk fare, in the garb of a likely folkstress.

The power of her music lies in the meanings it is able to create. Sure, all music represents different things to different people, but very rarely are associations so strong. Veirs voice is often pale, gently assertive. Rarely does she step out of this comfort zone and pronounce loudly. Never will you find her pulling a Karen O. She leaves gaps. And these gaps the listener fills with his/her perception of the subject. Itâ??s a wonderful feeling to listen to something and be able to create associations that are vivid and can change fluidly on every successive repeat. Itâ??s a function of the verses that are abstract and very subjective. She creates soundscapes that are easy to conjure, with plucky guitars and light percussion.

Every once in a while you feel completely taken aback by something new and rewarding. Like The Decemberistsâ?? Picaresque or Bat For Lashesâ?? Fur And Gold. Ms Veirs transcends this timeline with music that retains its originality and refreshes its meaning every time you listen to it. Laura Veirs is the good in the indie music scene. She doesnâ??t have to say much to make a mark. Her music does all the talking.

This column originally appeared in RAVE magazine.