Newly freed from the tethers of major label RCA, Charlotte Martin's latest album, "Stromata," is her most ambitious and experimental effort to date. Martin is currently on tour promoting the new release, and performed in D.C. at Jammin' Java on Sept. 21.
The stage was primed with the humble and folksy crooning of Joe Purdy, whose soul seemed more weathered than his jeans and athletic shoes would let anyone believe. He charmed his audience with comments like, "You guys are so happy. I don't know why I keep playing these sad songs." The crowd began to swell as time approached Martin's entrance.
Martin bears a tired resemblance to Tori Amos and Bjork, but she is her own more so than anyone else. She's raw but polished, strong but innocent, intense but somehow soothing. She looks like Cinderella but has the manner of a villain. She's the closest thing to a paradox making sense.
With a confident tiptoe, Charlotte Martin and drummer Fernando Sanchez slipped onto the stage. Martin's deep string pad bled over the filler music as it faded out. Armed with a three-keyboard factory and 15 years of piano training, Martin pushed buttons and pressed keys, cueing the entrance of organic drumbeats and bells for the opening tune, "Little Universe." Her smooth voice seeped through the digital percussion and clung to the air long after each note fell away. Sanchez crashed his cymbal, and Martin began stomping her perfectly manicured black toenails to the beat. The crowd pulsed.
The third song, "Cut the Chord," was one of the best of the night. Its tribal yet catchy beat topped with Martin's oozing vocals made it accessible and interesting. Slowly, layers of strings and ethereal sounds piled upon each other, a common undercurrent of many of her songs. As she mentioned during the show, she is constantly experimenting with mixing new sounds on stage, so no two performances are ever the same.
Martin shed Sanchez for "Cardboard Ladders," "Bones" and "Habit." It was relieving to see her in a more suitable context: just her and the piano. Her opera degree became more evident without the synthetic sound collages as she pierced the air with melodic intricacies. Solo, she showcased a controlled and forceful vulnerability, as her saintly voice was squeezed through her clenched jaw.
Sanchez returned for "Crimson Sky" and the walls began to throb again. Soon after, Martin played "Every Time it Rains," from her 2004 release "On Your Shore," then the title track "Stromata" from her latest. Playing these songs in succession showed how much her songwriting and musical style has evolved with time.
Martin abstains from the structural clich?s that many songwriters succumb to and her innovation is something to be appreciated. Not every musician possesses her sonic fearlessness and can deliver it so seamlessly.
