At first I was wary, because this CD’s artwork looked like that of so many hopeful but ultimately dull singer-songwriters of the sort I used to encounter in New Hampshire when I went to college there—y’know, well-meaning and earnest but ultimately disposable, just like the drawings or, worse, photographs of guitars which appear on their album jackets. But! That’s what I get for judging a book (fine, CD) by its cover, because this fine slab from Alec Morrison upends expectations. Sure, it’s primarily acoustic, but this dude’s stuff takes little heed of the form and conventions dipshits like me associate with being a singer-songwriter. His voice, which manages to sound both otherworldly odd and completely grounded, vacillates between raspy and reedy, a fine complement to riffs which are obviously purposeful and skilled technically but operate with inner logic like a puzzle which unlocks after several listens. This music’s hard to pin down, which had me coming back repeatedly for more, which is what a good record’s supposed to do. Fantastic, expectation-defying stuff. Holla!
–Michael T. Fournier (Self-released, morrisonalec.ca)