The touchstones here, such as Dusty in Memphis, are all records that revel in a particular kind of musicality, yet this is a record that never feels retro, just timeless.
One of the most fully realized and confident debuts in recent memory, Natalie Prass is an expertly sequenced and executed work that transforms decades of American music tradition into something relevant to the 21st century.
It makes for a glorious companion to Björk’s Vulnicura but also stands as a confident, masterly debut album in its own right.
Every lyric is perfectly finished off by a musical accent and every instrument is strategically placed in the right place, all coming together to pull on those heartstrings harder than ever.
Natalie Prass is a break-up album that doesn’t wallow; it’s the most realistic take on relationships you’ll have heard in a long time.
The rich production and ambitious, multi-faceted arrangements provided by White’s Spacebomb crew are the perfect foil for Prass’s soft, exquisite voice and expressive, tear-stained songs, such that the overwhelming impression of the LP is, against the odds, one of triumph.
What makes it good is her sophisticated ear for pop arrangements. What sets it apart is her gracefully authoritative, hyper-emotive, and at times semi-animal personality brought out through a masterfully controlled and gloriously weird set of pipes.
Natalie Prass's debut luxuriates in the same effortlessly timeless space as Rumer's Seasons Of My Soul and I Am Shelby Lynne.
It is ambitious music, even compared with Big Inner and it also sounds rich with potential.
Natalie Prass marks a solid entrance from an assured new talent; it's an absolutely lovely soul record, shot through with the wistfulness of heartbreak country.
While the tracks rarely challenge the listener with bold experimentation or chord progressions that range much beyond major-and-minor resolves, Natalie Prass provides a concise amalgamation of R&B, funk, baroque pop, and soul with a consistent through-line.
Prass’s winsome coo is a beautiful instrument, and the way her melodies dance and soar can be sublime, but the lyrics fall just a little short of the level that everything else on the record achieves effortlessly.
Virginia singer-songwriter Natalie Prass has sung backup for Jenny Lewis, and there's more than a passing resemblance to Lewis in the sweet, sunny heartbreak songs on Prass' debut LP.
Natalie Prass is the work of a distinctive new artist with a vision that embraces past and present, merging strength and vulnerability to powerful effect.
Natalie Prass shows she’s got the complex stuff down pat, but getting back to the basics might be the next stage of development that takes her to another level.
The day I like 'Christy' is the day this album jumps to a 100. Something about her voice and lyrics just creates these environments in my head. Like a mix of the modern age and the 1950s. Maybe a few moments I've gone through myself. "New music for an old soul" is one way to word it? I dunno. I highly recommend giving this one a spin!
Wonderfully old fashioned with splendid orchestral pop leanings and lush production. A winsome surprise.
Just read that apparently, the budget was non-existent for this album. Funny because this is one of the most beautiful albums I've ever heard, as well as one of the best debut albums I think ever. Natalie Prass also just has a voice like no other. The fact that she has under 50,000 listeners on Spotify is insane because this is a once-in-a-generation album.
Feels like a cat purring close to my ears, amazingly soft and sweet pop record with insane production.
1 | My Baby Don't Understand Me 5:12 | 100 |
2 | Bird of Prey 5:22 | 100 |
3 | Your Fool 3:16 | 100 |
4 | Christy 3:53 | 93 |
5 | Why Don't You Believe In Me 3:54 | 100 |
6 | Violently 5:44 | 92 |
7 | Never Over You 3:59 | 96 |
8 | Reprise 3:44 | 100 |
9 | It Is You 4:01 | 100 |
#7 | / | Paste |
#8 | / | Uncut |
#9 | / | American Songwriter |
#13 | / | Under the Radar |
#17 | / | FasterLouder |
#19 | / | Consequence of Sound |
#21 | / | Diffuser |
#22 | / | Rough Trade |
#26 | / | Stereogum |
#28 | / | PopMatters |