It is a set of perfectly framed folk songs that create a ghostly echo of a relationship breaking down, not because the love has disappeared, but that outside circumstances have just made it impossible.
Rich in textures and raw emotions, Marissa Nadler's For My Crimes is a lush and rewarding record from an assured, mature songwriter.
It's sophisticated and emotionally arresting, it's among the finest offerings in her catalog.
‘For My Crimes’ is a glorious album that demands to repeat listens to try and work out the hidden meanings of its songs and stories.
Her wit is as dry as it as subtle on her eighth album, a collection of songs that are also disconsolate and foreboding.
The latest in a long career of consistently stellar records, For My Crimes is a shining example of how Nadler continues to impress and improve upon each release.
On her moody eighth album, the Boston singer-songwriter examines the icy terrain of marital strife through the lens of her habitual gothic folk.
For My Crimes is another intricate, emotionally complex folk record.
On For My Crimes, Nadler delivers choruses in repetitive hymns that seem to delight in melancholy and hopeless longing. The sky is a slate grey and not much else filters through, making the new release both thematically beautiful and consistent though also lacking in surprise.
Across For My Crimes, which is Nadler's starkest and most barren album in quite some time, the Boston-based artist relies on little more than her forlorn, echoing mezzo-soprano and dusky, dusty guitar patterns to convey her desolation.
With her eighth album, For My Crimes, Marissa Nadler offers her most succinct and haunting record to date.
This is not the best Marissa Nadler record, but it kind of feels like her most perfect, potentially the resolution of a subtle identity crisis that’s run through her music over the years.
For My Crimes goes for a more stripped-back sound than its predecessor, and is just about as captivating.
It may not be the liveliest 35 minutes of the year, yet it’s filled with memorable imagery and some heartbreaking songs.
Simple song structures aren’t to be scoffed at, but trouble lands when things become a little too predictable.
Even though themes of distance and time are key players in the message Nadler is trying to convey, the personal heart of the album is often swamped by her trademark ethereal production and sometimes abstract lyricism. The imagery feels both impersonal and melodramatic, without offering any reason for empathy.
#35 | / | BrooklynVegan |
#45 | / | Albumism |
#93 | / | Bandcamp Daily |