On her second LP, Seattle’s Jesy Fortino succeeds in doing so much with so little. There are only two elements at play here: Fortino’s metallic, shivering guitar, plucked slowly with extreme reserve, distant as if tracked in a football stadium made of corrugated iron; and her voice, quavering and rich, with a nasal twang. Short of a few double-tracked vocals and scattered piano, this is the sole recipe for all eleven tracks.
Loneliness has negative connotations, but there is a sense of that here: if this were cinema, we would get wide shots, downward glances, and a blank colour palette; it would be extremely personal, progressive, bleak and probably Bergman. But surprisingly this heavily atmospheric, skeletal approach – most reminiscent of Joanna Newsom or Marissa Nadler – is extremely warm. Life On Earth, a record that pulls the term ‘solo’ back to its basic meaning, is inviting rather than isolating is a testament to Fortino’s talent.








