@amelia.moseman (words)
@colekincart (photos)

As I did my customary Wikipedia skim of the artist on the stage in front of me, she morphed before my eyes from a nebulous figure in the wind to a three dimensional creature of stature and voice. I’m speaking of course, of the singular Jessica Pratt. Pratt is one of those artists whose work I have admired but encountered towards the back end of her discography and so lacked a certain context for where she came from and where she might be going. 

It’s not hard to figure out where she is now; her most recent album Here in the Pitch, released in the spring of 2024, is a distinguished example of an album that simultaneously winds through a mystically melodic maze and firmly anchors its listeners. Her signature adolescent vocals seem to have matured to a firmer, though just as ethereal, tone—reminiscent of a Karen Dalton or a Joni Mitchell (cheap comparisons, I know, but accurate still). She moves the album forward without seeming in a rush, doting with both vocals and instruments. It’s an easy listen, though anything but simple. 

Given the album was around 5 years in the making, it makes sense that it’s a bit of a departure, or at least a step forward, from her previous work. Pratt had said many times that she drew inspiration heavily from the symphonic pop of Pet Sounds, and the intrumental credits back that up: timpanis, glockenspiels, harpsichords, vibraphones, a Farfisa (an electronic organ), to name a few. It’s only her second album of the four that was recorded in a studio and is her most confident and concrete.

What I was missing from my picture were Pratt’s early days: growing up in No. Cal in a “freewheeling” family, playing with sound and words from an early age, donning a mousy smile and unruly strawberry blonde hair. Her first album, Jessica Pratt, featured songs she’d originally recorded on analogue tape, and were released through a fetal label started by a friend’s brother. These details put her essence into important context. The perceived effortlessness starts to make sense, she is truly one with her music. 

Up on stage at the Salt Shed last Wednesday opening for Waxahatchee, she didn’t seem phased by much of anything. Some might chalk it up to nerves, boredom, or a general indifference, but I recognized a deep focus and unity of the soul. The set was gentle and a bit monotonous but the strength of Pratt lies in subtlety. Each strum of the guitar, each harmony, each riff, seems to come from some sort of ancestral plane. It’s mesmerizing. 

She has the help of a very talented group of musicians to create this effect. Matt McDermott on the keys, Riley Fleck on drums, Nico Liebman on bass and b.g.v.x., and Diego Herrera on the rest of whatever needed to be played. McDermott carries the synth while Liebman delivers well-timed, grounding harmonies. Each member lifts Pratt up, giving her the space to soar while filling in the extra space. At least on the surface, they seem to have a mysterious, yet profound, understanding of each other and the music. While Pratt is obviously the head, it’s clear she doesn’t see it that way and the band plays in an equilibrium state.

She has the help of a very talented group of musicians to create this effect. Matt McDermott on the keys, Riley Fleck on drums, Nico Liebman on bass and b.g.v.x., and Diego Herrera on the rest of whatever needed to be played. McDermott carries the synth while Liebman delivers well-timed, grounding harmonies. Each member lifts Pratt up, giving her the space to soar while filling in the extra space. At least on the surface, they seem to have a mysterious, yet profound, understanding of each other and the music. While Pratt is obviously the head, it’s clear she doesn’t see it that way and the band plays in an equilibrium state.
Was I disappointed she didn’t bring out A$AP Rocky? Of course. Their collaboration on “HIGHJACK” is S-Tier for me—the soundtrack to my senior year soccer season and an all around phenomal display of artistry from the both of them. I would have loved to be a fly on the wall for those sessions, let me tell ya. Rocky described her vibe as “Portishead meets Stevie Nicks” which is probably much better than any of my descriptions in so many words.
Regardless of the lack of hip-hop representation in the setlist, Pratt (w)rapped up leaving little to be desired. I, for one, had my itches scratched and my fancies tickled by the echoes and waves of JP blues and co. It’s always a delight to bear witness to the angelic glow of Jessica Pratt, whether is on the stage or through the headphones.