415-861-2011
By trade, Katie Crutchfield is a singer-songwriter, but in action as Waxahatchee, she's more like a butcher whose voice and six-string double as carving knives. Scanning through mind and memory, Crutchfield takes off thin, short-story-friendly slices of recollections and reflections, decorates the portions handsomely, and serves the results tartare. "Embody me/Because I am weak/I moved out/But I never opened my mouth," she declares on "Michel," a track off American Weekend, her 2011 debut full-length as Waxahatchee. Scattered, telling details — a full moon, cul-de-sacs, warm water, Sam Cooke songs — help sketch American Weekend's other lovestruck and woebegone numbers. Cutting her teeth in folk-punk outfits like the Ackleys and P.S. Eliot, the Alabama-born, Philly-based Crutchfield is finding her stride by wandering down the same confessional alleys once occupied by Elliott Smith and Liz Phair. There's no shortage of pained souls with guitars out there, but the determination and naked graininess of Waxahatchee's aesthetic indicate something special.
415-861-2011
