Calico Horse at IndieHeart Independent Music Showcase

Artist: Calico Horse

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Its getting late, almost dawn. My eyelids bounce up and down like camera shutters as I sit here alone in this cold, dark room. There is no furniture, no lights, and the walls are bare, but the window shade is open and the crescent moon hovers low over the horizon, providing enough light to see the whitecaps creep and crawl atop the black ocean. I can hear the ocean whisper and spit, hinting at the quiet tension below the surface.

I sit in the corner of the room, put my headphones on, and listen to the record. Emily Neveus voice is hauntingly beautiful. It is somber, yet uplifiting. She whispers for you to come near but, like the ocean, the power of her voice can swallow you whole. Her music is worldly. I hear Iceland in the vein of Bjork and Mum. I hear Japan and Italy in the vein of Blonde Redhead or France by way of Canada in the vein of Leslie Feist. I hear Radiohead.

I shut my eyes. I find myself in a small, wooden boat, floating above the open sea. It is still dark and cold, but Neveus voice warms me. It is soothing, yet invigorating. My body is shivering, my eyes are twitching, but my mind is engulfed in Clock Work Army. I hear the teetering piano in A Rush of This as the ocean rocks the boat and it makes me see old pirate ships lurking atop the sea. I hear Happy Placebo Syringe Day and the thought of forever sedating myself makes me feel safe. I could die out here on the lonely sea, but I find comfort in my solitude.

I hear Coocoo for Coco and the soft guitars make me feel weightless. I hear Hi-Fi Plane Ride and I am floating above land and my heartbeat begins to follow the songs erratic drumbeat. I am an international hit, Neveu declares. She is more than that. She is otherworldly. The tension between guitars and piano on Colors and Onomatopoeia grab a hold of my heart and tug it in all directions. I begin to fall. I crash into my body that is still floating on the sea. I hear AJ and Neveu sings, ride your boat ashore, asking me to steer away from the emptiness of the sea. Her soft voice lures me in and the acoustic guitars drift back and forth, as if to paddle my boat in. Then, I hear Good Night and turn toward the horizon. Her layered vocals hover above eerie pianos and percussion. The sun is rising and I am weary, but I dont want to go home. I only want more.

I awaken in my empty room. The sunlight beams through the window, but the room is only dimly lit. I play the record again. The extended amount of time put in to the record has proved worthwhile. The album took over a year to record at multiple San Diego studios. At the beginning of recording the album in 2006, Clock Work Army was a full band of four. At the end of the recording, Emily Neveu remains the only surviving member. The struggle it took for her to record the album bleeds through and it makes your heart ache. It has the dark melodies of Blonde Redhead and the hushed vocal tone of Leslie Feist. The guitars criss-cross from upbeat to mellow in similar ways of The Clash or Broken Social Scene. Pall Jenkins of Black Heart Procession produced the album and there are gloomy pianos similar to Black Heart throughout the record with touches of Menomenas keyboards. Overall, it resembles Radiohead if a female was at the helm. It is madly beautiful and it will swallow you in the loneliest of oceans. But, youll float in the nothingness of its swirling underbelly, gasping for more, as if it were air.

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