Someone once said maybe it was Ray Wylie Hubbard that "good poets didn't have a good childhood." I don't know about her childhood, but Cashavelly Morrison has had many traumatic experiences and the emotional journey of acceptance is reflected in her new album, Metamorphosis. Morrison began her professional career as a dancer, but after a fractured vertebra she turned to writing and songwriting. Encouraged by the father of a friend, none other than Kurt Vonnegut, she focused her artistic passion on the beginning of a novel, several scripts and music. Metamorphosis is a mixture of indie noir, folk and art rock and drives an operatic intensity from which it is difficult to escape.
The record starts with The Crossing. It has acoustic and electric guitar playing that is reminiscent of Fleetwood Mac in its heyday. It is also appropriate to refer to this band and Stevie Nicks when describing Morrison's singing. They are soaring and airy and pointy, falling to a whisper and then punching through to regain control. On Wild, this voice hovers between foreground and background, difficult to pin down, in a story about an attempt to regain a spirit long lost when civilization took over. Hounds has a beautiful haunting percussion line in an appeal to the dogs that hunt society. The album ends with hieroglyphics, a fitting ending with the assumption that you have accepted yourself and your past. The song starts out in an easier way than many of the other pieces, but it builds and builds until exploding cymbals bring the story to an end. You are exhausted and you realize that metamorphosis is not something you will soon forget.
About the author: I actually drove from Tehatchapee to Tonopah. And I saw Dallas from a DC-9 at night.