wilted

Given her pedigree, one might assume Paris Jackson's music would stick close to the pop and R&B that made her family a household name at the end of the 20th century. Therein lies the greatest surprise about the budding singer/songwriter's excellent debut album Wilted: it sounds nothing like what one might expect from the progeny of the King of Pop. Instead, it's a lush, gorgeous dive into the pits of post-breakup despair and heartbreak, more spiritually aligned with Beck's dolorous Sea Change or something from Bright Eyes' early days. Produced by Andy Hull of Manchester Orchestra, Wilted sways along through Jackson's various emotional stages, her soothing lilt, and raw, journal-entry lyrics hitting home for anyone still nursing the wounds -- or acknowledging past scars -- of a particularly bad split. Opening with "Collide," Jackson and Hull harmonize atop dreamy guitar plucks and atmospheric haze, introducing Wilted's core theme with some bittersweet reminiscing before the relationship begins to crumble on early standout "Undone," a deceptively lively tune with one of the album's catchiest choruses. On the countrified "Repair," she wonders "If I could be the one that you wanted/If I could be enough for you" before pleading to "Please wait/Wait for me" on the ethereal "Cosmic." There's nothing groundbreaking here, but the simplicity and relatability are key, elevating every song through the power of connection and basic human emotion. Wilted reaches a peak on the album centerpiece and lead single "Let Down," which sounds like a delicate blend of Mazzy Star's gossamer shoegaze and the patient guitar work from early era Radiohead. At this point, she begins to amplify the drama in her lyrics ("Let me down again/Break me, flush me down the drain"), taking the theatrics further on the heartbreaking "Eyelids," a full-on duet with Hull that finds Jackson bloodied and broken as she pleads, "Cut my eyelids...burn my tongue out...break my fingers...tear out my heart" to her lost love. Spinning evocative imagery from the album cover's dying flower through the title track -- which sounds like something from Evanescence's Amy Lee -- Jackson switches gears at the end, allowing hope to sprout as she declares, "...a new flower manifests/One that won't need the sun/I'll be my own sun." She carries that sentiment forward on the folksy closer "Another Spring," which finds strength in pain and looks forward to a new day through tearless eyes. Though Wilted brims with the grief of a devastated spirit, it's a fully immersive experience that ends up being extremely cathartic, a remarkable first solo statement from a promising young voice with a depth beyond her years.
© Neil Z. Yeung /TiVo