JULIA PRATT — ‘FAMILY FEUD’

Writer’s Rating: ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Philadelphia singer-songwriter Julia Pratt’s new EP ‘Family Feud’ is an elegantly nostalgic work capturing feelings of home, familial disarray, the intimacies of intergenerational trauma, and the difficulties of a family shattering. It’s skillfully layered, and a densely creative listening experience.

‘Family Feud’ begins with ‘Visions’, which itself begins with light, nostalgic, finger-picked guitar. Pratt’s voice is ethereal alongside overlapping choral vocals. Between her voice’s deep clarity and the choir’s high airiness, ‘Visions’’s soundscape surrounds and enraptures. The line “Mom, I had a vision/that there was a collision” immediately followed by the choir evoked an ineffable feeling in me, like I was having a religious experience. ‘Visions’ sets the tone for the EP perfectly, and does something very clever in its first few minutes: it establishes itself as the Platonic ideal of indie folk, before making the absolutely inspired decision to include three hard guitar strums at the song’s climax. The guitar startles you into sitting bolt upright and paying attention. In ‘Visions’, Pratt creates an indie-folk stunner that surprises, intrigues, and challenges.

We then move to ‘Bull In a China Shop.’ The personal lyrics and sparse instrumentation, along with Pratt’s consistent references to her parents really build to the themes of familial disarray. What stands out about ‘Bull In a China Shop’ is the way Pratt layers the typical indie-folk albums on top of each other to create something enigmatic and new.

‘Family Feud’ feels like Pratt is inviting you into a house: it feels both alive and lived in. Everything about it is so thoroughly considered, from Pratt’s choice of falsetto placement to where she integrates bass and electric instruments. I’m honoured to have priority access to ‘Family Feud’, because it’s something special— it stands out starkly in a indie folk landscape that often feels fairly homogeneous. ‘Bull In a China Shop’ is a brilliant rebuke to that homogeneity.

Next is ‘Carolina’, which starts with “Oh Carolina/leave a light on.” The words are tangibly, thickly nostalgic. She creates images of light playing on her face, and turns Carolina into a lover. ‘Carolina’ puts a good spin on songs about missing home, in addition to further fleshing out the EP’s title. The family Pratt feuds with is both her blood family and the domestic environment of Carolina itself. She sings that she “lost [her] father to a past life…but it broke [her] sister/still [they] bicker/both forgetting that we’re grown.” The contradiction between childish argument and something as adult as losing a father is a powerful juxtaposition that hits you right in the heart.

The specificity of Pratt’s words (established by her repeated use of personal pronouns) combined with the simple yet elegant metaphor of falling out of love with a lover that is also her home makes ‘Carolina’ a beautifully emotional work. It builds the themes of the album, while also introducing imagery that feels fresh and new.

Fourth on the track-list is ‘Chronos, Cruel Handler.’ Chronos is a name for the Ancient Greek god of time—the title sets up time itself as a metaphorical figure, similar to how she made Carolina her lover. She starts with the striking image of ‘Golden eyes in the bathroom/glossy white tiny hands and torn up shoes.’ Pratt has a talent for specific descriptions that generate a solid, tangible world.

On the line “Talk that talk”, the falsetto is bright and clear and lovely to listen to.You feel like she’s pulling on memories as she writes. They spill out alongside a choir of multiplying selves. Besides the obvious merits of Pratt’s singing ability and her talent for creating a world, her ability to wind themes into her lyricism is also remarkable.

She addresses an unnamed viewer, calling them a “Product of the past/don’t you know that they lied to you.” Within promotional material, ‘Chronos, Cruel Handler’ is billed as a song about generational trauma. Pratt directly addresses the sins of the previous generation, and how they have affected her through her family feuding. She makes the point that the standards of the past were not true, were not objective; they were lies and they were harmful lies.

“Do you wish you took it back?” Pratt asks, the figure of the song unable to answer—because “All the good ones died.” The high note on “You” at the end is reminiscent of Minnie Ripperton, and its repetition is a great way to show the impact that following the failures of the past without being able to address them in the present can have.

Pratt gives us ‘Michael’ to close. She starts immediately with the choir, addressing the fact that life is not as she thought it would be; it is more complicated and more difficult. Despite it, though, she says that ‘[She supposes she’ll] live it all the same.’ She’s backed by echoey drums as she brutally chastises “Daddy Dearest” for his misogyny and his cruelty. ‘Michael’ is about coming to terms with being treated poorly. The insistence that Pratt is not like the man she describes is potent and poignant. “I hate myself and how I dare to hope/I’ll figure it all out one of these days” captures the difficulty of having a father that you can’t understand, and that you wish to extract yourself from. ‘Michael’ is a sad, regretful, angry song, and the perfect note to end ‘Family Feud’ on.

Julia Pratt gives an all-star performance on ‘Family Feud’, pouring her heart and soul into the past, the present, and her aspirations for the future. I highly recommend ‘Family Feud’ for fans of introspective indie-folk, and more broadly, for fans that enjoy having their heart periodically ripped out by the most beautiful vocals they’ve heard in a long time.