The hazy dreamworld of Pearl Charles' eponymous debut comes primarily from the '60s and '70s. The EP is bursting with blues-rock and blissed-out psychedelia. Charles is not a frontwoman whose voice soars over her band—she favors shadowy harmonies. Bedding every track with cooing "ooh"s and "ah"s, she buries her strongest writing in the midst of splashy drumming and cutting power chords. "What can I say to make you walk away?/ And make you understand that I don't wanna hold your hand?" she sings on "What Can I Do", rejecting the Beatles' decades-old proposal with indignance.
Charles' record takes cues from movements all over the American map. There are hints of Southern folk and alt-country, Midwest Americana, and West Coast acid rock. She tugs at these sounds with her smoky alto, which gives off the kind of sensuality we associate with Lana Del Rey. The femme fatale described in "Idea to Her" sounds like she could have been plucked from Del Rey's songbook, Charles' voice similarly toothsome and her tone nearly as coy. The seductress role looks good on Charles, and she takes it on again alongside driving rhythms on the rootsy "I Ran So Far". She coaxes her lover to trust her with their secrets, but in such a way that both she and the listener know she's lying through her teeth. When she vows, "Won't tell nobody else," it's easy to picture thick smoke curling away to reveal a devilish grin on her face.
When she recedes from the spotlight, the EP gets a little vague. "Night & Day" is Pearl Charles' most diverse cut, with a jaunty surf-rock chord progression leading into a twinkling piano glissando into spiraling, bluesy guitar lines. But Charles hits a snag, relying on the arrangements to carry her through dull lyrics and tedious "dum-dum, dum-dum, dum-dum"s. On the prismatic psych-folk track "Indian Burnout", Charles leans into then out of her words, singing with a slight Southern drawl recalling Emmylou Harris. It's a shaky ride but a magnetic one that doesn't reach for heights that would overpower it or push things too far.
The missteps are small and forgivable, especially considering her affinity for unexpected—but measured—choices. There are small but potent style decisions in many of these songs—rolling, ominous piano notes on "Idea to Her", rubbery, countrified strings on "I Ran So Far". It bodes well for a future full-length release. Here's hoping she continues to cultivate clear-sighted songwriting and an ear for worthwhile risk-taking.
