Today, everyone is in a hurry—to catch the bus, to make an appointment or to make it to work or class. And sometimes, without even realizing it, we need something to push our pause buttons and force us to stop, slow down and breathe. Amelia Curran’s Hunter, Hunter does just that.
With her fifth album, Curran, a Newfoundland native, confesses dark and sad thoughts that we all think ourselves, but are perhaps too hesitant to acknowledge. With shades of Sarah Harmer and Joni Mitchell, Curran proves her infinite talent as a wise and mature artist.
One of the most admirable qualities of this album is Curran’s simplistic and intimate approach. There are no lush harmonies, overpowering rhythm sections or over-complicated arrangements. In fact, most of the arrangements consist only of Curran’s welcoming and haunting voice, a guitar and bass. While in most cases this lineup might prove to be repetitive, Curran makes it work. One can’t help but feel as though Curran is sitting right beside you whispering her confessions into your ear.
Suggested tracks include “The Mistress” and “The Dozens”—the latter providing a break from the confessional feel of the other tracks. The accordion and more up-tempo cabaret style makes one feel as though they have been temporarily whisked away to the streets of Paris.
Don’t be surprised if you find yourself nodding in recognition to Curran’s many confessions. Just pour yourself another glass of red wine and realize that sometimes all you need in order to breathe is a song.