A ?orid aquatic daydream awash in texture and intelligence
The reason to love Laura Veirs is that she can make a record that, on paper, incorporates just about every chafing indie-rock cliché and still make it feel fresh, new and lovably listenable. One of Veirs’ greatest strengths is her ability to surpass her vocal limitations and use subtle bits of sonic texture to haunting effect, rather than in a show of ostentatious quirkiness—witness the vaguely Oriental synth lines on “Don’t Lose Yourself,” the xylophone on “Wandering Kind,” the chant-y chorus-singers on the title track, the hand-claps on immaculately constructed opener “Pink Light.” Beyond that, she manages to make tonally and thematically coherent albums, as on Saltbreakers, where pirates, waves and the eerie morning light of the sea’s beckoning horizon all blend in rich watercolor hues in the ears of those smart enough to pick up this particular plastic (or digital) seashell.