BY JOSH RUFFIN
Rlease date: October 9
AUGUSTA, GA - When Elin Palmer cuts in above the strings on the opening title track from “Postcard,” solidly and airily delivering lines like “Your face on a postcard/My hands in my pockets/Our minds thinking the same thoughts,” you could be forgiven for thinking that this is just a for-the-hell-of-it pseudonym for Mirah. And to be fair, you’d be hard-pressed to arrive at any other conclusion following only a cursory listen to the album; Palmer’s vocals are forceful yet confident, her sometimes-Joni Mitchell, sometimes-Seamus Heaney-like lyrics carried and swept along by understatedly orchestral arrangements.
Know however, that digging deep into “Postcard” will begin to unearth all of its veiled idiosyncrasies and subtle pleasures. Phrased another way, you’re not allowed to relegate this album to mere background or ambiance any sooner than a month after acquiring it. I mean sit down, strap on the headphones, and really…LISTEN. Allow yourself to be brought nearly to tears by Palmer’s staggered self-chorus on the title track; ponder the inexplicably fluid dichotomy of ocean-set spaghetti western ballad “Whaleboat;” and slowly come to realize that “Stora Stoular” has lifted you up and set you down at the border of Paris chic and Moscow sketch.
In the end, though, anywhere Palmer takes you is home—hers, yours, and everyone you know. To listen to “Postcard” is to have something akin to an out-of-body experience: your body grounded, your mind unfettered, and your soul finally acting like the unhinged angel its always been.