Larkin Grimm (show preview)
Philadelphia City Paper | M.J. Fine
She's been a poor Appalachian child and an Ivy League hipster.
She's bunked down in trendy cities and third-world countries, communes and boarding
school, tents and vans. Most of all, Larkin Grimm's lived in her own head.
Remnants from each stage of the 27-year-old's life turn up all over third
album, Parplar (Young God), and not necessarily where you'd expect them. The
title tune is cosmic free jazz; the closer, "Hope for the Hopeless," is
spiteful and earthy. The first highlight, "Ride the Cyclone," makes the most
of Grimm's soft, sinister inflections; later, she pivots from swoony to
witchy with little warning. "Anger in Your Liver" and "Be My Host," with
their sweet melodies and simple lyrics, are twisted lullabies that a
scoundrel might sing to her dying mother. On record, a large cast of freaky
folks contributes to the mystic vibe, but the village is a luxury for a
wanderer like Grimm. She's used to being on her own, and she doesn't need
much — an acoustic guitar, maybe a banjo — to conjure something dark and