Erika Lundahl //

“Daughter, You’re a Storyteller”

“I am in the right place

I am in the right time

I am with the right you, babe

We got this”

These are the final words of the poem set to music, entitled “Rosemary for Remembrance” (a poignant homage to the patron saint of drowned women), the opening song from Erika Lundahl’s newest 8 track album “Daughter, You’re a Storyteller”. The poem Erika speaks to us in long, breathy, calming verses is part love spell, part manifesto, and wholly spun from the stuff of the soul made bare. Zen synth and beautifully recorded 12 string guitar accents layered beneath sing-sung talking offer us teasing hints of what is yet to come.

From the getgo, this album donates the sense that Lundahl is truly a songwriter’s songwriter. She interweaves personal shadow with a tonal lightness through lyrics, chord choice, and vocal style, giving the distinct impression that Erika comes from the legacy of songwriters and performers who simply have the writing in their blood. Lundahl writes from the wound through the lens of a dedicated healer, and in doing so conveys a breadth of experience and emotion which is boldly honest and familiar, yet unconcerned with a need to endlessly glorify pain or insert irony and numbness where they are not necessary. There is a distinct impression, upon listening, that we are dealing here with an incredibly authentic and earnest person. Therefore Lundahl’s music is going to sit best with listeners who come with an open heart, a desire to explore complicated histories, and a willingness to engage with an uncertain future told through a language that is at times quite literal. 

Lundahl’s vocal style on “Daughter, You’re a Storyteller” ranges from a true folk tradition on “Songbird” to a grittier display of pain on “No Bullet Cure”. Her melodic palette is perfectly and impressively accentuated by her experienced lyricism, showcasing a flow that is entirely a-typical of popular music, and instead comes from a legacy of penmanship long beloved by fans of Americana, folk, and blues music. Erika is evocative of Alanis Morisette, Laura Marling, Lucinda Williams, PJ Harvey, and a pinch of Angel Olsen, if Olsen had more evolved lyricism and structure in her songwriting. What we find here is a bridge between the beloved sounds of songwriters ranging from the early 90’s and 2000’s to some of the more modern styles of the genre today.

One would be entirely remiss in failing to mention that another star standout of Lundahl’s work is her guitar prowess. Many might not grasp the kind of dedication it takes to wrangle a 12 string confidently, much less make it sing with the perfect dynamic accentuation and beautiful choices which ring out masterfully on these songs. I would be just as motivated to attend one of Erika’s live shows for her vocal and song performance as I would be out of respect for her as a guitarist. Throughout the history of women, femmes, and non-male artists in the singer-songwriter genre, there is a great lack of credit given where credit is due to truly talented instrumentalists, and Erika Lundahl absolutely must not be overlooked in this regard. 

In terms of genre, it is wonderfully apparent here that Lundahl is indeed a Northwesterner, through and through. The blend of genre exemplified on this record is a delightfully satisfying walk through grunge, folk, blues, country, and rock influences. Here is a record that would do well in a myriad of libraries, on a wide range of radio blocks and streaming playlists, so watch out for this one KEXP! For those who are mired in the work of PNW songwriters, “Daughter, You’re a Storyteller” makes an incredibly worthy addition to the pool and Erika Lundahl a PNW standout to be celebrated.

The record remains pleasantly in the same neighborhood of production style from the beginning to the end, featuring acoustic guitar, bass, percussion, and a wonderful array of harmonies, vocal samples, and synth/production accents. The common thread of production achieved here is made even better by the fact that this record does not sacrifice range for cohesion. There is no monotony to be found here, and there is as much consistency as there is a noticeable journey we are taken upon, with something for everyone along the way (like all great albums). 

Those who prefer a bit of a lighter and more earnest tone will enjoy tracks like “Songbird” and “Raw Silver”. I personally favor the darker reverberations and sounds on “No Bullet Cure” and “What I Know”. No Bullet Cure is an excellent example of a mixed-genre tune with a heart of punk at its core, and moreover, the message conveyed here is deeply relatable, as Lundahl sharply relays the feeling of being dragged through the hellish pits of life with no easy way out. What I Know offers up some excellent vocal work, giving us gut-wrenching wails in the background as Erika explores chordal choices to be lauded by jazz musicians and folk lovers alike, plunging us into moments of dissonance throughout the melodic landscape. This record does run the risk of deterring those who are looking for something cooler, more abstract or aloof in tone, as Lundahl’s lyrics are overwhelmingly steeped in the very literal language of healing. However, it would be a mistake to be deterred by this alone, as the album varies in message and meaning enough that there is a great deal to be discovered here. 

And oh, what an ending do we find here on this record. The final track “Spring is Come” is a joyous celebration, a ritual dance of collective and self-liberation, echoing so much of the cyclical, seasonal imagery of this album (yet another wonderful marker of Erika Lundahl as a nature steeped PNW gem). Here is an album to follow you through all seasons, through bad days and good ones, as lovely at midnight as it is for at first light of day. Erika Lundahl is a rare soul, to say the least, imparting as much sagacity as is possible for a divinely connected musician in the year 2020. We are certainly lucky to have her in our midst, and I recommend a healthy dose of this sonic medicine in the months and years to come. 

“Daughter, You’re a Storyteller” is not the type of music one throws on for background noise, inasmuch as I would never be able to throw Fiona Apple on as background noise. Despite being incredibly calming and healing sonically, the intricacy presented here through storytelling, musicianship, and raw feeling is most certainly an experience which demands an ilk of attention akin to finding a naked lover sitting on your bed. 

—Written by Rowan Katz

Rowan Katz (@saintcloudica) is a multi-disciplinary musician, vocalist, songwriter, poet, and mystic living in Long Beach, CA. They spent 2 years residing in New York City, and 3 years in Washington state, where they have found incredible networks of creatives and radical voices making waves through community solidarity and direct action. Their music can be found on all streaming services as well as Bandcamp.