(www.badbitchrecords.com) Were I to say that Larkin sings like a lark I would be lying, as her unusual voice is, despite the fabulous feathered frock worn on the cover, not birdlike, despite this production suggesting she may be an odd bird, herself. I would also be way off base suggesting that even at their blue-note bending, dark-lyric-ed, weirdest, these songs have any grim(m)ness. In fact, her floating vocals bring lightness to songs about dirt, death, sorrow, and euphemistic child fucking (I’m pretty sure the line “fuck that child” is not about pedophilia). What you have here is some incredibly non-traditional folk music/jazz that has some freak folk-adjacent elements, but is pretty much its own species. But not of bird.