Someone in the video comments suggested that SOKO could be the child of Leonard Cohen and Bjork. That’s not so far off at all. It’s weird. These semi-folksy, earnest confessional albums aren’t usually my thing. I may hate it tomorrow. For tonight though it really works. It caught me in a mood.

It’s a strange album, for sure. You can listen to it or not. If you’ve been following along with my quarantine death letter you’re in for a surprise. It’s not my usual fare. Not at all. The headaches must’ve made me vulnerable and extra-sentimental. Hell, it happens. No big thing. And this isn’t a perfect album, by the way. At first at seems like Soko is singing for herself but it doesn’t take more than a few minutes before it’s obvious that it’s totally a performance. I mean, every recording is, right? Even when some sound really, really personal, like this one did at first. There’s a lot of emoting here though. I haven’t decided if it detracts and how much.

But see, that’s just me looking for reasons to dislike this. .I don’t though, and I can’t quite figure out why. Don’t tell anyone, okay?

Shit, these headaches are going to kill me. Try getting an appointment with a specialist (any kind of specialist) in a pandemic. But okay then. Listen to Soko here. I’ll be fine.