Torres

Torres, the debut album from 22-year-old Nashville native Mackenzie Scott, has a deceptively charming backstory. Scott’s family pooled their money together to buy the Gibson guitar that is heard on the album. It was recorded live to tape over the course of five days in the home of a Louisiana songwriter. Scott herself is a bright- eyed, beautiful young woman that simply looks happy to have the opportunity to share her music. Given such a pleasant, unassuming foundation, it is a welcome surprise that the album itself is a raw and gripping exploration of our most basic human emotions. Over simple and often sparse arrangem- ents, Scott unleashes her remarkably multi-faceted voice and lets the listener into the intimate moments of her life. She stands confused outside of a strangers house. A man ashes in his coffee. She looks down the face of a waterfall, wondering whether or not to jump. TORRES is a deeply personal record. However, through her stories of fear, heartbreak, inadequacy, and self-acceptance, Scott ultimately speaks to something universal.
The album opener, “Mother Earth, Father God,” with its languid strings set against distortion and solemn lyrics, quickly establishes TORRES’s diverse range of influences. There are hints of Chan Marshall’s raw recording style and emotional delivery, Joanna Newsom’s lilting flourishes, Alela Diane’s powerful and seductive vocal tone, and Julie Doiron’s juxtaposition of acoustic and electric sounds. It’s a song that portends an album filled with angst ridden americana, driving drum beats, and dark violin solos. However, the album that unfolds after the first track is far more adventurous than the first few minutes suggest. Scott finds her voice immediately and from there in makes bold instrumental decisions that surprise and enrapture, making for a gorgeous patchwork over which her stories are able to come to life.