Sometimes It's Better to Play Dead

Lo Galluccio's spell comes blurting from the dented radio of a sunscorched convertible, churning up dust along a stark soundscape of rattlesnakes, barbed wire fences, & bleached cattleskulls. Her voice evokes a haunting motif in this desert film noir as we pull up to a ramshackle filling station, advertised as the last stop for gas in the next hundred miles, & discover the attendant is the tortured ghost of a Hopi medicine man with a story to tell.

Like her spiritual godmother Patti Smith, Lo hoists her bandolier, sharpens her bayonet, & moves with the delicate swagger of an angel on a battlefield. In "I Put a Spell on You" she casts Hawkins' wax figurine voodoo back on its author, resulting in an even spookier rendition, mercilessly feminine. "Let Em Think My Wings iz Broke" creeps in like a thief in the chicken coop, amid jagged eggshells & droplets of blood. The children of foxes in "Back Porch" can be heard drumming on oil casks & tree stumps for a salivating audience of vultures, salamanders, & wild dogs. Existential torch songs on an imaginary jukebox. This album isn't afraid to get its hands dirty.