Breaking-up may be a wrench, but channelling your pain into music has never come more naturally. Or so you might conclude, in view of the recent deluge of splintered-heart records. Across the past year or so we’ve welcomed Sharon Van Etten’s Are We There and Lykke Li’s I Never Learn – and how could we omit Robin Thicke’s apocalyptically sleazy Paula.
Trumping the lot for emotional heft is Natlie Prass’ sweltering debut, which pursues the counterintuitive strategy of cosseting the Nashville songwriter’s woebegone musings in sweet swells of brass (courtesy of producer Matthew E White’s Spacebomb Studio at Richmond Virginia). Far from leavening the tension, the big-band trappings have a claustrophobic effect: Prass’ voice is delicate, almost Kate Bush-esque, but the music pressing in from all around feels heavy and serious. You can try hiding your pain behind a brisk manner and painted-on grin, the record seems to say. But hurt will out, every time.

Key Track - 'Bird of Prey'