On “Teeth Marks,” the title track of her second album, the Kentucky singer-songwriter S.G. Goodman caterwauls into a cavern of reverb so high and lonely it seems to go on forever. Her voice is wry, with a hint of barroom scrape in her lower register, but when she sends it spiraling towards the track’s vaulted ceiling, mingling with the trembling guitar, she sounds less like a singer than a beacon. Her opening couplet places one urgent hand on your forearm—“Well, I laughed a bit when you pulled that card/Telling me you’re gonna bless me heart, well it is/Oh, it already is”—and holds you in place from there. She echoes singers like Jim James, Kurt Vile, and Roy Orbison—who could make your nerves wince with the force of their melancholy.
Content
This content can also be viewed on the site it originates from.
