Those who have followed the career of Hannah Aldridge from overseas for close on a decade will be well-versed in her creative and free spirited approach to making music. Pursuing her own path has been a mixture of quest and destiny, or just maybe where the heart belongs and feels most comfortable. Elements of innate country and Main Street Americana have been a feature, and will likely always linger, but you frequently came across her dips into folk noir and horror-tinged projects that explored deep niches and inner delves into what intrigued her. The wares of her new album on one hand infill a fresh canvas with a sound deviation, while in places firmly anchoring the well-honed songwriting skills. On DREAM OF AMERICA the pull to share the songs of others comes to the fore and thus for the first time we discover the interpretative side as much as the songwriting.
Over time the original compositions may rise to the top of her repertoire, but initial listens get drawn to a widely known classic and and one inching into classic territory with every new person it hooks in. The former is an individualistic reworking of 'Psycho Killer' where the mask of Hannah Aldridge bravely adds a dimensional edge to David Byrne's seminal offering. On a more interesting note to where she likely grabs more attention, the take on Lachlan Bryan's 'The Portrait of the Artist as a Middle Aged Man' is a stunning adaption. Maybe it is credit to the writer that a song with such malleable allure can be reinterpreted in an evocative and dark style. The inclusion of the latter is enhanced by Bryan's role as one of a trio of producers who operated remotely on the record from his Melbourne base. The others were producer/engineer Damian Cafarella and Swedish mix engineer Frans Hägglund.
Another stray from her previous material saw Hannah Aldridge switch from personal to character mode for her writing stimulus. She surveys through the eyes of those from the other side of conventional life who bring intrigue and cinematic noir to an existence bestowed with angst and stricken with a path of broken glass. The haunting vocals and experimental production add to the mystique and the theme of the intent.
The album opens with a fairly straight up song in 'Dorero' that immediately springs a likeness to the recent vocals of Gretchen Peters diving into one of her dark murder ballads, usually with Ben Glover in writing tow. We don't have to wait long for Ben Glover to actually turn up as his vocals open 'The Fall' before a duet kicks in. No surprises that the duo co-wrote this evocative piece.
While collaboration fuels this record on many levels, it exits the door with Hannah Aldridge in solo writing mode via a lower key song in 'The Great Divide' containing most of the elements forming her musical persona coupled with smidgeons of electronic backbeat. For those seeking a reassuringly Americana refuge, the pedal steel added to 'Unbeliever' does the trick sending flutters to the brain of those partial to a bout of twang. On the sound flip side we enter a weird and wonderful world of partial experimentalism in the minute long instrumental 'Dream of America'. Strategically placed at the heart of the album is likely to be of consequence. Earlier in the record, 'Beautiful Oblivion' takes the listener into familiar territory and is as Hannah Aldridge as you get. Later in the record 'Catacombs' with its stroke of originality exposes the production whims that sets it apart.
Hannah Aldridge is the antithesis of throwaway music. She tosses songs into the mix that may take time to develop and are far away from the notion of the instant fix. There are three possible reactions to DREAM OF AMERICA: hold fire this isn't for me; maybe it's a grower; wow this is amazing. Hannah Aldridge has put out a moment-in-time option on the table. Most of all, it represents who she is as an artist. Honesty is a great human virtue. It transcends artist talent. Here Hannah Aldridge exudes both in an alluring haze of visionary cinematic music. The journey is long and one likely to twist and turn in many directions. An artist in control is one likely to still be standing at the end.
