Jackie Lynn

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Jackie Lynn is the fictional pseudonym (or is it the opposite means spherical …?) of singer/songwriter Haley Fohr who can also be recognized for her indie folks undertaking Circuit des Yeux. With this mature follow-up Jacqueline, Lynn returns together with her persevering with story narrated by Fohr and ably assisted by Bitchin Bajas crew Cooper Crain, Rob Frye and Dan Quinlivan.

‘Lynn’s’ self-titled debut in 2016 a ‘fried cocaine country record’ informed the story of the enigmatic ‘Jackie’ and her ‘life’ thus far which included a former existence as a ‘drug dispenser’ in Chicago. She ain’t no chemist, although. Ever since these illicit occasions she’s been on the run to the surface of every thing. On this analogue-monologue-travelogue these new songs are her missives to the world.

This alter-ego has not but landed. Jackie’s now dedicated to a a peripatetic existence, perpetually on the go and by no means on the gradual (lest her previous catches up) the misplaced highways are her solely sanctuaries. Each observe particulars 9 days of ups, downs, trials and travails. Snapshots of place to put, city to city, a stranger in a wierd land, a life on the margins stands out like a sore thumb to prying eyes so discretion is paramount. Nature is her compass (as ordnance and ethical), the ‘moon her incubator’ on the meditative stock-taking ‘Traveller’s code of conduct’.

Like Orville Peck, one other masked sigh plains drifter with a chequered backstory, Lynn is a cipher, a filter for noirish escapades and western visions of frontier existentialism. Remembering who you had been and who you at the moment are is a continuing dialectic, a each day battle to keep away from changing into unstuck.

On ‘Casino Queen and ‘Odessa’ ‘Jackie’ appears like a techno Tanita Tikaram shaking some motion to Giorgio Moroder, administering deep guttural mysticisms from the dancefloor’s edge. The looping ‘Odessa’ particularly is a 9 minute robo-groove, C3P-Oh-yeah! It’s like being misplaced within the maze in The Shining. It’s snowing and Jack’s acquired his axe. Everywhere and nowhere to run.

There’s additionally a scent of Kraftwerk’s electretro-futurism (‘Control’ and its Morse Code like emissions) and Brian Eno’s ambientscapes (‘Lenexa’), Ricky Nelson’s alone-some pining and at occasions Annie Lennox’s Eurhythmically spoken stare-glare (the slo-mo space-disco funk of Diamond Glue’).

‘Shugar Water’ lifts liberally from Sparks’s ‘Amateur Hour’ together with her hovering intonation additionally evocative of Russel Mael’s orch-poptones.
The somnambulant moonlit traipse down ‘Dream St.’ options string-driven swing from Julie Pomerleau and enfant provocateur ‘Bobby Conn’.

Rumours of an idea album, relating to the life and occasions of retired English golfer Tony Jacklin are but to be denied.

This is Jackie Lynn. Catch her whereas she’s nonetheless in sight.

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