We review new albums from Ivy Adara and Cat Power

Wanderer Domino Verdict: A meditative wander down a refreshingly quiet path.

WANDERER, CAT Power, aka Chan Marshall’s 10th album and first in six years, was rejected by her ex-label Matador for its lack of hits. An illuminating New York Times profile reveals Matador even played Marshall an Adele record to exemplify what a singersongwriter record should sound like in 2018.

You can imagine Matador’s nerves when they heard Wanderer; it’s one of Marshall’s most spare to date, sometimes challengingly so. In the spirit of its title, it strays down a restful path, not yielding to any temptation to trim or heighten the songs to better suit a Spotify algorithm. With arrangements of guitar, piano, soft percussion and not much else, Wanderer sways like beachgrass, moving enchantingly to the beat of its own drum. It’s a beautiful record from an artist not just well-versed at sculpting her internal battles into open-hearted songs, but one who greets that process like an old friend.

While it’s sparse, Wanderer isn’t stale — rather, it’s full of fresh air. Most notable here is Stay, her cover of the 2013 ballad by Rihanna and Mikky Ekko. Under Marshall’s breathy, textured vocals and off-kilter pacing, the song’s contradiction is beautifully heightened; asking a lover to stay even after all the talking in the world has only tied you both in

more complicated knots. There’s also Woman, apparently added after the Matador rejection. Lana Del Rey joins for backing vocals, lending a warm saturation to Marshall’s tall and proud declarations: “If I had a dime for every time/Tell me I’m not what you need . . . I would take it to the bank and then leave”.

Though limited in their instrumentation, Marshall’s songs are thematically expansive. She’s constantly considering the strangeness of passing time or welcoming her next chapter. The rolling piano chimes on Horizon colour her search for family lines: “Little brother, let’s get on to travel, let’s get up to something/ Little sister, can I have this dance?” But Marshall, forever changing her path, draws a line in the sand: “You’re on the horizon/I cannot stay.” Later, on the stunning penultimate track Me Voy, Marshall expands that desire to slip through the cracks: “Me voy, me voy/Good is gone.”

As with any pared-back release, Wanderer might drag its feet too much for some, particularly in our crowded music landscape. But considered in its own quiet vacuum, Wanderer reveals Marshall as an artist making peace with her own complications, and relinquishing control to the inevitability of time. In that context, it’s a reassuring, replenishing listen.