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