Album Review: Angie McMahon – Salt

Highly anticipated is an understatement when it comes to the debut album from Aussie singer-songwriter Angie McMahon, whose past singles have left fans constantly craving more. In the last two years we’ve witnessed the impressive rise of the Melbourne artist; the release of her now Gold-certified debut single Slow Mover in 2017 setting her on a trajectory that’s led to sold-out international shows, appearances at huge festivals including Splendour In The Grass and Laneway, and, earlier this year, the prestigious Grulke Prize for Developing Non-US Act at SXSW. 

Previous releases set the bar high for this record, but for those who got hooked on songs like Missing Me and Keeping Time, the additional tracks that make up Salt will not disappoint. She doesn’t deviate from her tried and tested recipe for great songs, with strummed electric guitar, warm bass, simple drums and her unique, low vocals the sole ingredients. It’s a combination that’s fairly simple but incredibly effective. That said, 11 songs occupying the same sonic space does become a little monotonous.

While the album as a whole might lack a bit of light and shade, every song individually is notably dynamic, with hushed, intimate verses swelling into punchy, soaring choruses. It’s hard not to be drawn to McMahon’s voice, which is left isolated and exposed within the sparsity of opener Play The Game and Push, while gritty production adds to the rawness of Soon and Mood Song, their deeply personal lyrics softly crooned as sweet melodies.

Pasta, a carb-heavy lethargy anthem, provides a welcome gear change, building perfectly to express an experience shared by many 20-somethings – feeling lost and unmotivated, but still trying. Honest storytelling coupled with McMahon's powerful voice make slow burner And I Am A Woman, her favourite song on the album, a standout. McMahon sings with soul-baring hurt, anger and frustration about the idea that "our bodies and the spaces around us are our homes, and that everyone deserves to feel safe and respected in theirs": "You are in my home now/And I am a woman." Beautifully unpolished If You Call offers something different; the almost eight-minute long lo-fi closer softly lulls the listener with a whistled melody and gentle vocals.

McMahon’s long-awaited full-length release meets all expectations. Her relatable lyrics and emotive vocals make connecting to her music easy.