Album Review: Martha Wainwright by Martha Wainwright

Being the scion of a famous musical clan can be an insurmountable burden, but it only seems to have inspired Martha Wainwright. She has avoided emulating either her parents or bro Rufus, and manages to elude most of the cliches of female singer-songwriterhood. Her songs are tough and earthy, hating mere prettiness when fieriness or forcefulness are required.

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After teasing listeners with the enigmatic Bloody Mother Fucking Asshole EP earlier in the year, singer/songwriter Martha Wainwright comes clean with a lush, eponymous debut that should secure herself a place as one of the genre's finest young practitioners. BMFA, despite its headline-grabbing title, showed an artist of considerable depth and vision, attributes that she builds on tenfold with her first foray into full-length territory. Wainwright tears through words the way her mother, Kate McGarrigle, does, inserting mischievous pauses, experimenting with cadences, or sometimes just pulling the phrase out like a wad of taffy, while all of the while in complete control of the overall narrative.

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