Forget for a second that Vic Chesnutt is her uncle. Forget the Cat Power references. Forget what preconceived notions you hold about female singers. Liz Durrett is doing what a lot of people have been doing for a long time, but her patience as a songwriter and her calculated decision to do more with little is what makes The Mezzanine phenomenal.
On her first release, Husk, Durrett showed an immaturity that was to be expected considering the songs were recorded while she was in her teens. The Mezzanine sheds all age-restraints and establishes Durrett as someone who should be receiving the same acclaim as Norah Jones and Diana Krall. On “Marlene,” her voice quivers and breaks beside a simple strumming guitar, and on “Shivering Assembly,” a drunken harmonica enters the fray, only to be sideswiped by Durrett’s gorgeous voice. “Creepyaskudzu” is drenched in Chesnutt’s slow beats a la Ghetto Bells, but with Durrett’s powerful voice the song rises to new heights. The title track hovers between haunting and gorgeous, with Durrett’s voice echoing over the main vocals sequence. The guitar is simple and the samples hover quietly behind the entire structure.
As a whole, the album works exceptionally well. Durrett stays focused, convinced of her skills as a songwriter and vocalist and confident enough not to smother the songs in bass lines and overpowering drum lines. Uncle Vic obviously sensed it and does a wonderful job of keeping the songs stripped bare, leaving the guitar mistakes in tact, allowing the listener an even closer glimpse of his niece
