Daughter of Loudon Wainwright and Kate McGarrigle, and sister of the famous Rufus, Martha is a comparatively late starter in that musical dynasty, and to her credit she avoids any overt similarity with any of them on this, her debut album. Even better, she has eschewed many of the clichés of fey singer-songwriter-dom, bringing a sense of dirt-under-the-fingernails reality to her forceful lyrics. Despite having to live up to the family name, she oozes individuality, marrying an emotional sensitivity to a musical agenda all her own.
That agenda includes love lost and found, the cunning of her fellow humans, the tribulations of sex, people who build barricades around themselves and those who need to but maybe can’t.
‘Bloody Mother Fucking Asshole’ is a stunningly graphic portrayal of the open wounds of her life past and present, a fine example of music as therapy in a style that bridges the gap between Nanci Griffith and folksy Dylan. ‘Ball And Chain’ is a spirited heckle about sex, and on ‘TV Show’ she sings with searing honesty about her own vulnerability and lack of self-worth.
There’s a deceptive languor to ‘Factory’ and an unsettling Twins Peaks-ish wistfulness to ‘Far Away’, but the tougher approach on ‘GPT’ shows she can up the ante as required. Only on ‘This Life’ does she allow her self-indulgence too free a rein.
While the predictable backing never quite achieves the musical edge of a Mark Eitzel or PJ Harvey, Wainwright’s music lays traps for the unwary, often outwardly smiling but with a big bite waiting for those who venture too close. She’s not as stylish as Rufus nor as genially biting as her Dad, but neither is she trading on the family jewels.