You know what's scary about singing? It comes directly
out of a person, which implies that it directly represents the person.
Hardly anybody has guts enough to do that, so singers are usually "jazz"
or "blues" or "rock" or "soul" or something that allows them a little
distance. Jennifer Terran sounds as if her singing might be herself.
It's not that she bleeds all over the floor, though she's plenty intense.
Her songs (self-written and pianized) just seem to come from a specific
place with strong melodies that take natural but unexpected turns. They're
about love, hate, whatever, it doesn't matter, the only thing that does
is that there was a personal reason for them to exist. To deliver them,
Terran happens to possess a remarkable soprano, and a level of control
over it equal to that of a young Joni Mitchell. Her album, Cruel (Grizelda),
with its clean, intimate arrangements and fine songs like the title
one and "L.A. 101" is worth the search. She's just a singer from Southern
California, but she shows that that can be something very interesting.