Take Me Out To a Bar / What Am I, Gatsby? marks a deliberate pivot. The album’s open, introductory chords evoke seem fit to score a scene in a Michael Haneke movie in which some stern German woman stomps down a whitewashed hallway. By the time that Chadwick’s crackly soprano joins in, it figures almost as a kind of intrusion upon what had been, up until that point, a pure mood. “You don’t have to listen to all the lyrics,” she attests. Chadwick's calling card since her earliest releases — a jagged, one-take immediacy — has been dialed back, leaving room to inconspicuously crowbar as much poeticism into the songs as she possibly could.
