By Todd Lavoie
BOSQUE BROWN
Baby
(Burnt Toast Vinyl)
One should be easily forgiven for thinking that Bosque Brown is the effort of one person, recorded under a group-name alias, a la Cat Power/Chan Marshall — vocalist/songwriter Mara Lee Miller is such a dynamic presence on its just-released disc Baby that it isn’t too tough to imagine everything coming from a single creative force. In reality, the Denton, Texas spinetinglers are a sextet, named for the Bosque River which runs through town; not sure about the “Brown” part, other than the color choice connotes an earthiness reflective of their rustic Americana bent. Miller’s haunting visions — funneled through an alluringly dusty twang and slow-drawled delivery — are singular enough to separate the band from the ever-swelling masses of No Depression devotees, but her partners’ careful construction of sighing backdrops and moody undercurrents not only testifies to their strength as an ensemble, but also adds more than a few exclamation points to their must-hear status.
There is something in the tense hushes and quiet understatement creaking away in the background which brings to mind a more melancholic Hem, or perhaps even a nervier Cowboy Junkies, circa The Trinity Session (1988, RCA). It also wouldn’t take too much of a leap in imagination to consider Baby a spiritual cousin to Cat Power’s immaculately restrained Moon Pix (1998, Matador). As you might have figured from the aforementioned reference points, there are shiver-inducing moments a-plenty here.
Bosque Brown, “On and Off”