Jessica Pratt's music creates a mood unlike anything else, inhabiting a mystic L.A. the rest of us only dream about. The songs sound similar to each other at times, and completely unique at others, and they each unfold in ways that you can't predict or neatly diagram. I only saw her live once, and it was a disaster. She was opening for Beach House at Liberty Hall in Lawrence, an event sponsored by INK Magazine, and the only people not talking through it were the employees of the Love Garden. Instead I like to listen to her albums on vinyl, with all the requisite hisses and pops. Each time I put them on, I make sure to give my full attention.
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