Sarah Jaffe
The best songwriters are actors.
A subtle weave of the shoulder, a single raised eyebrow, a slight tilt of the head… all these things sell lyrics and music in a way that an amazing voice on it’s own can not. It’s not what you say, it’s how you say it. And in the case of music, it’s not just how you say it, it’s how well you broadcast the soul of a song, that invisible message an audience reacts to instinctively before they even realize what they’re hearing.
Sarah Jaffe does this beautifully.
During her CMJ performance at Spike Hill (the Brooklyn venue I book) this past October, her set was simple: Her onstage with a Spanish-style acoustic guitar, often methodically plunking a single string while broadcasting her warbling melancholy moan. Her voice ranges from hushed and roomy to blasting and haunting. Watching her play, one gets the sense that Sarah lives within her songs, inhabiting each of her tune’s various melodic passages as if she were walking from one creaking, empty room to another inside her head. By incorporating momentary stretches of silence between these passages, often accompanied by a subtle craning of her head towards the stage lights, her mouth silently forming the next unspoken lyric of her tune, Sarah grips a room. Her eager audience is pulled unwittingly along, like a rolling toy tugged behind a wide-eyed exploring child.
Check out Sarah’s music here. Check back soon for a link to her CMJ performance captured by Baeble Music.
-Zack
