Beginning her career as an alumnus of anarcho-punk institution Crass, Annie made her solo debut with the splintered, electro-torch songs of Jackamo in 1987. Seven years later (and a major deal come and gone with only a single to show for it in the interim), she made a fantastic, witty album of dub storytelling and heartwrenching ballads with Adrian Sherwood. A worldly-wise survivor of much more than just the usual addictions, she's managed to maintain her deadpan humour (think of her as a sexually liberated, post-punk Dorothy Parker) despite the personal shitstorm she's weathered in the last nine years. Here, over sparse, haunted glitch-dub her garnet-hued purr dispenses bittersweet reminiscence in languid, smoky melodies: sharp, sleek and deliciously wicked.
Beginning her career as an alumnus of anarcho-punk institution Crass, Annie made her solo debut with the splintered, electro-torch songs of Jackamo in 1987. Seven years later (and a major deal come and gone with only a single to show for it in the interim), she made a fantastic, witty album of dub storytelling and heartwrenching ballads with Adrian Sherwood. A worldly-wise survivor of much more than just the usual addictions, she’s managed to maintain her deadpan humour (think of her as a sexually liberated, post-punk Dorothy Parker) despite the personal shitstorm she’s weathered in the last nine years. Here, over sparse, haunted glitch-dub her garnet-hued purr dispenses bittersweet reminiscence in languid, smoky melodies: sharp, sleek and deliciously wicked.
