Jennie Stearns is another accidental discovery -- I put this kind-of-folky album on last week and still haven't taken it off -- which doesn't mean that I'm following the lyrics yet -- it just means I like her fresh but world-weary presence -- that feels endlessly sincere -- even if it's a bit derivative of Lucinda Williams -- with voice dragging so far behind the beat, it might get left behind. Gillan Welch also seems present -- especially when Jennie's husband joins her on banjo.

I'm liking the ambience -- but I guess that includes the songwriting -- and especially "Garden of Delight" (the only one she didn't write) It's short -sweet -dark - mysterious -- I may be having a sixties flashback here -- back when every album seemed revelatory, rather than contrived.

Just like the ivory/horn gates of dreams -- there are gates for songs that true or false --- and these songs all feel like they're straight from the gate of truth.



Come and pick a flower
from the garden of delight
tell no one where you are going
just be sure to come at night
Nothing's real until you kill it
nothing's missed until its gone
In the garden there's no mercy
Flowers know no right or wrong
Lost souls crowd the garden
look, you'll find me there
you can recognize me
by the bloodstained clothes I wear

...Johnny Dowd