Renata Zeiguer: Old Ghost LP
PREORDER: Estimated arrival 03/02/2018

Renata Zeiguer is a composer. I won’t repeat that word again because of the square-ified cliches that have lofted that word to the land of $30-and-higher ticket prices, but the depth and complexity within the songs of her debut full-length, Old Ghost, is actual. The harmony that lays the yellow brick road of each track is secretly wise, allowing any level of listener to make a home on its path, allowing the band to flex and stretch in ear-opening ways, allowing Renata to never be bored and charge forward and reel backward with spirit and ease. So, too, is Renata a three dimensional meteor shower, an ever orbiting mass of survival and debris, experience and wonder, pulling our ears and hearts from that constant running faucet of our day-to-day, and pushing us forward in a manner that can make self-reflection and true flower-smelling a recurring practice. Amongst the roughness of forward momentum and our own feelings of being held back amidst that motion, this album is the hanging branch to grab onto, to elastically bound from and find a perch. Renata gives us something to squawk about. The roots of those depths are in Renata's upbringing as a musical being, by Argentinean and Philippine immigrant parents who were not always the easiest to be around but who always encouraged her musical passions. On piano and violin and later the guitar, Renata grew, with classical and jazz repertoire, with bedroom time spent with The Pixies, Yo La Tengo, Billie Holiday, Gal Costa and Os Mutantes. The dynamic track list of “Old Ghost” is a walk in the park of mental gymnastics, as the park survives all four seasons. Renata takes us into her world where she can feel beautiful at one part of the day and hideous the next. Where self worth can be fully see-sawed by the flip of a switch, and that switch changes location every damn time. Where self deprecation can become a habit, a more comfortable space than the one where you grow, where the record stop.

Other titles from Northern Spy