Waxahatchee’s 
Katie 

Crutchfield 
has 
a 
musical 

style that seems to be an 
exploration of change as she 
has touched across the sounds 
of indie, folk and rock through 

her 
past 
four 
full-length 

releases. Her ability to claim 
a distinct musical voice while 
experimenting with different 
sounds has shown itself in 
her most recent release, Great 
Thunder. The EP stands as 
a separation from her rock 
heavy 2017 record, Out in the 
Storm, but remains as a stark 
representation of herself by 
revisiting both her past music 
writing experience and her 
country roots.

Great 
Thunder 
is 
a 

recollection and reshaping of 
six songs Crutchfield wrote 
with the now non-existent 
recording group that wore 
the same title as this recent 
EP. The rare and hard-to-find 
original collaborative tracks 
gave Crutchfield inspiration 
to 
rework 
their 
skeletons 

and bring them back with a 
clearer sound and a gripping 
emotional pull.

The EP is vulnerable in 

every sense of the word. 
Crutchfield’s 
strong, 

but 
breathy 
vocals 
stand 

alone with only soft piano 
instrumentals resting behind 
her, exposing every whine, cry 
and moment of breathlessness. 
This simple companionship 
creates a parallel between the 
production of sound in the EP 
and the emotions it evokes: 

loneliness and pain. These 
feelings 
become 
vocalized 

within the EP’s lyrical content 
and are introduced with the 
beginning track “Singer’s No 
Star” 
as 
Crutchfield 
cries 

“We get comfortable with 
our detachment to our oldest 
friends / And you got me here 
where I’m left alone / I’m 
not the only thing you ever 
left.” Not only do these lines 
surface an air of loneliness, 
they introduce a haunting 
remembrance for a time that 
was that only becomes stronger 
as the EP moves along.

This 
turmoil 
becomes 

exaggerated through each song 
as 
Crutchfield’s 
beautifully 

melodic vocals slip away into 
soft whispers that feel almost 
unfinished, leaving listeners 
with high pitched sighs full of 
yearning. This flowing change 
in her voice instills a feeling 
close to regret. A painful 
emptiness that settles at the 
bottom of your chest when you 
remember something you want 
to forget, like an ex-lover’s 
favorite song or the color of 
their bedsheets.

But, as soon as Crutchfield’s 

whispers fade out into nothing, 
her vocals come back with an 
intensity that sends shivers up 
your spine, flooding your eyes 
with the color blue, creating a 
feeling of abandonment. She 
sings of this abandonment in 
the song “You Left Me With 
an Ocean,” with a heavy voice 
that rings with melancholy.

And 
even 
though 

Crutchfield’s voice is weighed 
down by this loneliness, as 
the EP nears the end there is a 
sign of submission, a desire to 
return and try again after all 
of the hurt. In the final song, 
“Take So Much,” Crutchfield 
begs this person she has been 
addressing through the entire 
EP to come back to find support 
in her: “Take it out / Take it 
out / Take it on me baby,” she 

sings, leaving these isolating, 
vulnerable emotions to linger 
without resolution. After this 

EP draws out intense feelings 
of 
desolation 
and 
despair, 

Crutchfield leaves us without 
closure, 
like 
most 
of 
our 

haunting memories do. Once 
the music stops, there are only 
her haunting sweet voice, a 
complacent sadness and you.

I spend an unusual amount 

of 
time 
thinking 
about 

eyelashes. This is a fairly new 
development, considering I 
used to think about eyelashes 
strictly in a making-a-wish-
and-blowing-it-away context. 
I’m Jewish and superstitious, 
sue me. Now, I think about 
eyelashes, and the inadequacy 
of my own, on a regular basis. 
My summer in Los Angeles 
quickly exposed me to the 
fact that my human-length 
eyelashes were blatantly below 
average next to the whiskers 
that flutter out of the fairer, 
Southern Californian eyelids. 
These eyelashes can protect 
even the most sensitive eyes 
from desert sandstorms, I’m 
sure of it.

The life and maintenance 

of these eyelashes requires a 
separate checking account. 
The down payment is about 
300 dollars, which is nothing 
compared to the three hours 
it takes to individually glue 
the camel whiskers to your 
individual 
human 
hairs, 

which you surely despise by 
now. A biweekly rent payment 
of 
60 
dollars 
(excluding 

gratuity to your aesthetician, 
obviously) is due to re-glue the 
eyelashes that have fallen out 
because, guess what, you’re 
still a human that sheds hair. 
It’s unclear if fallen eyelash 
extensions can still cash in for 
wishes. I will investigate, and 
probably wish for girthier eye 
hairs.

The point — and there is a 

point — is that I made 11 dollars 
an hour sorting mail this 
summer. Thus, I did not get 
eyelash extensions, although 
I cannot help but think that, 
had my eyelashes been a 
couple 
centimeters 
longer, 

more men would have bought 
me the astronomically priced 
Los Angeles cocktails that I 
couldn’t afford. Economically 
speaking, 
eyelashes 
would 

have been an investment.

I blame my eyelashes for 

loneliness and allergies. If 
this one thing was different 
about me, I think, life would 

be better. My phone knows 
this, because it listens to my 
darkest thoughts and desires, 
and slyly places a Glossier 
ad for their Lash Stick on 
my Instagram feed. The ad 
promises long, lush lashes that 
look as if they were genetically 
programmed to be just so. 
Full disclosure: Glossier could 
package rat poison in a baby 
pink bottle and I would gladly 
pay upward of 20 bucks for it.

So, I stand in line for 30 

minutes to spend my hard-
earned 
paycheck 
in 
the 

Glossier store on Melrose. 
I get the Lash Stick and the 
Cherry Lip Tint that makes 
my lips look flushed and 
virginal and will thwart the 
impending thoughts of lip 
injections for at least a little 
while longer.

However, 
I 
hate 
cherry 

flavored anything because it 
tastes like chewable Tylenol. 

I decide to wash down the 
unbearable taste of my lips 
with a large iced almond milk 
matcha latte, unsweetened. I 
have just spent $7.50 on green 
tea, which I firmly believe 
is just badly flavored water. 
I drink it anyway because 
Gwyneth Paltrow swears by 
it and I secretly think she is 
magic.

Gwyneth also swears by 

CBD oil. CBD oil comes from 
cannabis, and it will not 
make you high. But, if you 
infuse CBD oil into Icelandic 
fairytale water, it will replace 
your 
medically 
diagnosed 

anxiety with eternal bliss 
and an eligible bachelor. Or 
something like that.

Regardless, 
I 
drink 
the 

matcha and hope for supple 
cuticles 
and 
brighter 
eye 

whites. 
Along 
with 
my 

stumpy eyelashes, I learned 
that the whites of my eyes 
are 
unacceptably 
off-

white, eggshell at best. An 
“influencer” tells me that 
superfoods like chia seeds 
and matcha and goji berries 
will strip my eye whites of any 
unwanted pigments, and so I 
go to Whole Foods. I suddenly 
have 
a 
deep, 
unhindered 

desire for my eye whites to 
look like effin’ porcelain.

I go to hot yoga, even though 

I’ve fainted in a hot yoga class 
before. One minute I’m doing 
a sun salutation and the next 
I’m waking up on my back to a 
room full of yogis whose Zen 
I have totally botched. But I 
know that I have toxins, and 
they need to be sweated out. 
I brave the torture workout 
sauna chamber once again.

The yoga instructor has 

just come back from a detox in 
Ibiza. No sugar, no alcohol, no 
dairy, no meat. I think this is 
no fun. The mind gives up way 
before the body, she tells the 
yogis. So don’t take any water 
breaks during the flow.

It takes me 20 minutes to 

drive the two miles from the 
yoga studio to my apartment. 
I listen to “Pete Davidson” on 
Ariana Grande’s new album 
and go into a mild depression 
thinking about Cazzie David, 
Pete Davidson’s ex. This is 
something that upsets me 
more than eyelashes.

My eyelashes and some 
additional shortcomings

The EP is 

vulnerable in 

every sense 

of the word. 

Crutchfield’s 

strong, but 

breathy vocals 

stand alone 

with only 

soft piano 

instrumentals 

resting behind 

her, exposing 

every whine, 

cry and 

moment of 

breathlessness

DANIELLE YACOBSON

Managing Arts Editor

Waxahatchee’s new EP 
lays it all bare and raw

SELENA AGUILERA

Daily Arts Writer

MUSIC REVIEW

Merge Records

Great Thunder

Waxahatchee

Merge Records

Detroit 
and 
Zimbabwean 

cultures collide as the JIT 
Exchange puts the two into 

dialogue through music and 
dance in the UMMA’s Museum 
Apse this Thursday, Sept. 14.

The 
performance 
will 

feature Detroit dancer and 
choreographer, 
Haleem 

“Stringz” Rasul, Zimbabwean 
guitarist Mono Mukundu and 
SMTD grads of the E. Reid JIT 
Coalition: Everett Reid, Alexis 
Lombre and Marcus Elliot.

Thursday’s performance is 

just one part of a much “bigger 
narrative,” Rasul explained. 
What started off as just a video 
exchange between Rasul and 
Zimbabwean dancer Franco 
“Slomo” Dakha, the exchange 
program grew as Rasul began 
his own time in Zimbabwe.

The JIT exchange is hosted 

by the University’s Center 
for 
World 
Performance 

Studies and the Department 
of Afroamerican and African 

Studies in collaboration with 
the Zimbabwe Cultural Centre 
of Detroit. The event will 
be a conversation between 
Detroit’s Jit and Zimbabwe’s 
Jiti, two distinct styles of 
music and dance.

In 2015, Rasul spent five 

weeks researching, facilitating 
workshops, 
teaching 
and 

meeting different artists in 
three different Zimbabwean 
cities: Harare, Mutare and 
Bulawayo. 
Immersed 
in 

Zimbabwean culture, Rasul 
collaborated 
with 
Dakha, 

facilitated Jibilika — a dance 
competition and festival — and 
was documented day by day by 
a Zimbabwean videographer. 
New roots were planted in the 
search for the old roots of Jiti.

Detroit and Zimbabwe 
cultures collide at the 
JIT Exchange at UMMA

ISABEL FRYE
Daily Arts Writer

COMMUNITY CULTURE PREVIEW

“JIT Exchange”

Sept. 13, 2018 

7 p.m. - 8 p.m.

UMMA

Free

“(The 
exchange) 
opened 

up the door for everything 
else to follow,” Rasul said. 
As connections were made 
and relationships grew, the 
foundations for the upcoming 
performance were built.

For those unfamiliar, Detroit 

Jit is a regional dance style 
which emerged in the 1970s, 
comprised of fast footwork, 
armwork and floorwork, and 
accompanied by beat-heavy 
music. Around the same time, 
a Zimbabwean music genre 
called Jiti emerged. The JIT 
exchange will bring Jit and 
Jiti together into the same 
space as the artists respond to 
each other and to the unique 
aspects of each style. Through 
music and dance, a cultural 
dialogue will emerge.

Though 
the 
two 
styles 

emerged 
through 
distinct 

cultural 
contexts, 
they 

originated in the same era. 
As a result, similarities can 
be 
seen. 
One 
particular 

similarity is Detroit Jit’s Funk 
Shuffle and Zimbabwean Jiti’s 
Borrowdale, two movements 
which developed on opposite 
sides 
of 
the 
world, 
yet 

incorporate the same pacing 
with the feet.

While 
both 
styles 

incorporate 
fast 
footwork, 

Jit and Jiti each have distinct 
elements stemming from their 
cultural roots.

“I’ve tried to Jit to their 

music and likewise, and it’s 
just a different feel with their 
music — their music is very 
guitar based and ours is more 
beat and percussion based,” 
Rasul said. “Zimbabwean Jiti 
has a lot of hip movement. We 
have hip movement too, but it’s 
coming from a different place, 
you know, we feel a vibe.”

Music 
predominantly 

determines the feel of the 
dance 
which 
accompanies 

it. Through the tempo, the 
rhythm, the instruments used 

and the character, a dancer 
feels the music and moves with 
the music. The music inspires 
a unique set of moves and a 
particular feel which give way 
to the dance style.

While the original intention 

was to bring Dakha to Detroit 
for the second phase of the 
exchange program and the 
Thursday performance, visa 
complications 
delayed 
the 

exchange. As a result, the 
performance will be more 
heavily focused on the music 
of Jiti while Rasul responds 
in dance. Rather than routines 
choreographed collaboratively 
by Dakha and Rasul, the 
performance will be more of an 
improvisational performance 
between Zimbabwean music 
and the Detroit Jit. More 
spontaneous in style than a 
choreographed routine, the 
performance is sure to bring 
out new ideas and moves.

The 
JIT 
Exchange 
will 

bring attention to two dynamic 
cultures: one rooted across the 
world and the other just 40 
minutes outside of Ann Arbor. 
The exchange will continue 
on as Rasul brings his own 
experience home to perform, 
to educate and to promote 
both Detroit and Zimbabwean 
culture.

“I hope people get inspired 

to 
learn 
something 
new,” 

Hasul said.

Detroit has so much to offer 

in art and ideas, and while it 
is so close to Ann Arbor, there 
is a vast unawareness of past 
and current ongoings. While 
Hasul 
traveled 
to 
another 

continent to experience and 
learn from another culture, 
the JIT Exchange will bring 
two unique cultures right here 
to Ann Arbor, and leave the 
audience ready for more.

My summer 

in Los Angeles 

quickly exposed 

me to the 

fact that my 

human-length 

eyelashes were 

blatantly below 

average next to 

the whiskers 

that flutter out 

of the fairer, 

Southern 

Californian 

eyelids

The JIT 

exchange is 

hosted by the 

University’s 

Center for World 

Performance 

Studies and the 

Department of 

Afroamerican and 

African Studies in 

collaboration with 

the Zimbabwe 

Cultural Centre 

of Detroit. The 

event will be a 

conversation 

between 

Detroit’s Jit and 

Zimbabwe’s Jiti, 

two distinct styles 

of music and 

dance

6A — Monday, September 10, 2018
Arts
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com

