Performer Magazine
10/02

Myshkin's Ruby Warblers - Rosebud Bullets

Recorded and mixed by Mike West at The Ninthward Pickin' Parlor Mastered by Joe Doherty at DRR Masters in New Orleans, LA Produced by Myshkin Released on Double Salt Records

Reviewer -Sherry Sly

The mono-named Myshkin writes music that tempts one to set off to new lands with nothing but the shirt on your back and the boots on your feet with memories of lost loves to keep you warm at night. “Where does the road go?” is the first line of “Scarecrow,” the opening song on Rosebud Bullets. Myshkin's music is often labeled gypsy-torch-punk, but perhaps a whole new genre should be invented for her, something along the lines of World Americana if you can imagine. Lyrics rich in American imagery coupled with music that draws on such international influences as latin jazz and klezmer music.

Myshkin's road has snaked from Kansas to New Orleans and ends up in an paean to Oregon in “Northern Coast.” The last lines of the album read, “Dream the springs of Oregon / Rivers carving gorges in / Armor I wear traveling / Till I find myself bare again / Only clothed in douglas fir / Feel the chill of clearcut earth / Women dance in stocking feet / Smiles as wide as small town streets.” Fitting, as Myshkin moved from New Orleans to Portland in August of 2002. The New Orleans influence in Myshkin's music is so potent you can almost smell the magnolia trees. Songs like “Rosie” are so evocative and timeless they seem like traditionals: “Are you pale my Rosie / Are you pale indeed? / Walking with your rope / Off to the hanging tree / Back behind the roses / Back behind the shed / While the sun is rising /A bloody red.”

The band is called the warblers for a reason as Myshkin's deep smoky alto, which brings to mind PJ Harvey and Beth Orton, is rich with melismatic phrasing and vibrato. Such words have been given a bad name by certain soulless overproduced artists who can be grouped generally as “divas,” but Myshkin's use of such techniques is not about showing off technical acumen but about what suits the song. That said, perhaps it's the contrast, but the two stand out songs on this album are more mellow ones. Her guitar registers are low, and when her voice matches that lower register, the tension caused by her restraint is exquisite. In “King of Kanakee” her voice sounds as if it is sung through a bullhorn, which along with the fast tempo guitar work combine to form a fascinating '20s big band meets bluegrass sound. In the achingly evocative “Cities,” lyrics put together simple rhymes in surprising ways. While what sounds a lot like a saw plays softly in the background, Myshkin sings lyrics ala Magnetic Field's Stephen Merritt: “We like it dark but it don't have to be / We are free as two birds can be / Singing freaking free in this freak city / On the street I can kiss you / Here in San Francisco”

It's said there's only two stories in the world, someone takes a trip or a stranger comes to town. Rosebud Bullets is the story of Myshkin's trip through a magical America and Portland is lucky to have such a stranger come to town.