New York City singer-songwriter, haprist, and composer Stephanie Babirak released an album of covers as part of Echo Chamber Ensemble in 2022. But now on her debut solo album Rotten Fruit, she fuses atmospheric, cinematic harp arrangements with distinctive vocals and a blend of perfectly crafted indie-folk/pop songwriting. The new record was written and recorded in collaboration with friend and longtime collaborator Peter Scoma, who sings and plays guitar on every track on the album.
Rotten Fruit (which features a rather beautiful album cover photo, shot by Johnel Clemente) opens with “Apocalypse”, which is a very pretty, rather breezy look at the imminent end of the world. With lines like “ChatGPT’s gonna eat me when it gains sentience”, she perfectly encapsulates the bubbling undercurrent of dread and uncertainty that lives inside certain members of our society in this time of radical and somewhat unsettling change. The delivery is twee, sugar-sweet, and instantly charming, disarming the listener and making some rather unpalatable thoughts much more digestible.
“Waves and Whispers” follows and adopts a gentle lilt. Dreamlike and enchanting, it feels cinematic and beguiling. Vocals blend like watercolours against a backdrop of twinkling strings and warm bass. The minimal percussion adds a subtle spine to a song that feels fluid and loose but also perfectly considered. Given that Babirak is a harpist, we’d imagine that comparisons to Joanna Newsom are rather commonplace. However, we’d say that these approachable, easy lovable songs couldn’t be more antithetical to the rather esoteric work of the Californian cult hero.
The next song – “Hey Cain” – further cements that point. Beginning with a drumbeat that feels familiar and bold, the harp is almost incidental in the grand scheme of things. The instruments meld together as one, and her vocals are as glorious as ever. When the chorus kicks in, it’s instantly anthemic. “I’m finding it hard to believe / I cannot seem to make peace”, she sings while backed by Peter Scoma; it feels perfectly poppy and eminently enjoyable. Special mention should be made to the other strings here – the violin especially, courtesy of Cody Geil – that adds real depth, flavour and spice to the delicious melting pot of sounds. By the time it concludes, it feels celebratory, refreshing, and expressive, and like it should absolutely become a hit.
“Waterline” is the longest song on the album by a good amount. It feels a bit like an odyssey or a voyage. As per a lot of the instrumentation on the album, there’s something rather fluid about it. The juxtaposition of the super catchy poppy chorus and the ethereal hazy music is a match made in heaven, but perhaps one that most wouldn’t expect. There’s a touch of Lily Allen to Stephanie’s vocals here, the first time so far that we’ve been reminded — even remotely — of the work of another, which is really saying something.
“Lakeside” begins with a thumping, driving drumbeat that feels uncharacteristic when compared to the rest of the album (in a good way.) The stylistic shift peaks your interest and ensures your attention is maintained. It builds gradually and somewhat eerily – the two vocalists again pairing excellently – contrasting, but also complimenting. The song carries on in this way, gradually morphing until at one point it eventually goes full synthpop and electronics take centre stage. Scorching guitar, beautiful synth pads, the ever-present harp, and those same drums come together like a vibrant fusion of the sound of the 1980s synth scene and some kind of medieval fever dream. “Lakeside” is easily one of the standout moments of the album.
Next up is a charming little cover of the 1961 classic “Moon River”. The arrangement here perfectly suits the larger-than-life nature of the song, but it’s performed in such a way that feels tender and intimate, whilst at the same time undeniably epic. Pared-back instrumentation leaves room for the song to shine, which of course it does. A genuine classic, a timeless piece of music: This song will continue to be covered for all time. And this version is as good as any we’ve heard. (It’s up there with Frank Ocean’s and Lykke Li’s versions).
“Utah” follows, and is sultry and soft as it starts. Again, the contribution of Cody’s violin cannot be overstated. From the outset, it adds another layer and dimension to the mix that strengthens the song and deepens our appreciation of it. Joshua Benash mixed and produced everything on the album, and we must say, he did an absolutely stellar job. There’s definitely a consistent synergy here, a musical symbiosis. But also, each component seems to stand alone, and you can enjoy every aspect equally, for both reasons. “Utah” feels as folky as the album gets, but is also — like much of the rest of it — extremely poppy. It’s this fine balance that makes it work. We’re reminded a little bit of UK singer-songwriter and composer Sasha Siem, who is similarly single-minded in her approach to her artistry.
Album closer “Coda” is only 72 seconds long. It is composed entirely of her harp played through a delay pedal, creating a gentle veil of sound. As it drapes over the listener, you realise this is the end. These are the closing credits of the short film that you’ve just listened to: A lullaby to send you off into the night. It feels – like a lot of the album does – like an exercise in (or a celebration of) artistic freedom. It also serves as an exemplary case study for sonic identity, and is also — to put it plainly — quite undeniably beautiful.
Take a listen to Rotten Fruit below:
Written by Kinda Grizzly
