Backstage at the Newport Folk Festival, a box of promotional CDs sat innocuously on a table in the press room. I grabbed a few, including “Boys, Flowers, Miles,” because I vaguely recalled seeing Antje Duvekot’s name flash on XM one day while listening to the Loft.
Back in the hotel, I dropped the disc into the room’s ALARM CLOCK, and what came out of that meager speaker hit me like a train, flattened me dead in my tracks.
Antje Duvekot has the lyrical intensity of Patty Griffin’s best work AND a worldview that’s part shaman, part political scientist. At some point, I’ll detail the specifics of gut-punch masterpieces like “Judas” and “Jerusalem,” but for now I just want to curl up with them.
It’s been so long since something this beautiful wandered into my field of vision that I’d almost forgotten what it felt like.
You owe it to yourself to visit her MySpace site. Listen to “Jerusalem” and tell me it doesn’t reach you at some level, be it the heartbreaking story she tells, or Antje’s mysterious Celtic/Nordic hybrid of a voice.