Marisa Anderson is not a psychic consultant and medium from Scarsdale, New York. Stupid google. She is a musician who dropped out of college at 19, set to walk across the country and didn’t stop wandering for 15 years. She is kind of like what I’d imagine listening to if I were on a long, sultry walk on my way to bear my sticky palms to a mystical voodoo clairvoyant somewhere deep in the reeds. Anderson is the sound of somewhere woozy and southern, where the air is fat and steamy and where real, lonesome, booze-kissed music drips out of the pores of the natives like some bittersweet birthright. She’s a born picker – a soloist who is staggeringly at one with the guitar and lap steel. Even if live solo guitar shows aren’t your thing, I assure you that this is your chance to hear those forever longed for, never quite found, Delta-blues of yore in person. We’re lucky to have her home, in our blanched northwestern atmosphere on the bloated edge of summer, this coming Sunday the 16th for her record release show at Mississippi Studios with Dragging An Ox Through Water. Go feel it. – Morgan Talkington
