Hometown: Montreal.
The lineup: Laurel Sprengelmeyer (voice, instruments).
The background: You might not have heard of Laurel Sprengelmeyer, AKA Little Scream, but you will know some of the people featured on her new album, Cult Following. It was co-produced by Sprengelmeyer in tandem with Arcade Fire’s Richard Reed Parry, and Mary Margaret O’Hara, Sufjan Stevens, Sharon Van Etten, Aaron and Bryce Dessner from the National, Owen Pallett and Kyp Malone of TV on the Radio all make cameos. Not that their appearances are evident: if anything, they quietly submit to Little Scream’s vision, happily lending their skills along the way as they enter her world. It’s a world where pop and prog, folk and funk happily coexist with alternately lush and eerie soundscapes. Sprengelmeyer has described Cult Following’s predecessor, The Golden Record, as “a bedroom adventure”. This one is way more ambitious, singular and cinematic. As she admits, “I pushed myself to go further on all fronts.”
Sprengelmeyer, a thirtysomething Dubuque, Iowa, native who “grew up in a kind of Christian religious cult” as a Jehovah’s Witness, conceived of Cult Following – the clue is in the title – after visiting a friend who lived in a small environmentalist community on an old coconut plantation in a remote area of northern Brazil. It had many of the trappings of a quasi-religious sect. And while some members of the community focused on the dilemmas and joys of living off the land, others began following a local charismatic leader and eschewed regular eating practices, existing instead on a diet of sunlight (and various fruit juices) and reading each other’s auras and interpreting each other’s dreams. She could see the attraction of it all, as well as its potentially fatal allure: “It was as compelling as it was absurd,” she said. “I became very aware of the entropy of belief. You could feel the magnetism of ideas take shape and pull people into their centre like a black hole … a thing so filled with light that its own gravity means that none of it can escape.”
On Cult Following, Sprengelmeyer explores her feelings about the nature and repercussions of belief, and her responses to her experiences in the commune. A classically trained oil painter who does her own artwork, she has envisioned it as a single, large piece in which tracks bleed from one to the other as though part of a giant canvas. But it’s not just something to hang on a gallery wall and distantly admire. She hasn’t allowed her confusions and doubts to interfere with her intention to make gloriously accessible music. There are big pop choruses here, reminders of anthemic 80s rock, as well as ambient textures worthy of Eno. St Vincent fans will love it, but it’s Prince whom she mostly had in mind. In an interview with Exclaim, Sprengelmeyer described the album as her attempt at making Purple Rain as if it was “done by a midwestern girl with more of a folk upbringing”. Indeed, three of the songs were mixed by Prince’s collaborator, David Z, at Sunset Sound Recorders where Purple Rain was mixed (although the tracks were not eventually used).
Cult Following is at once eclectic and “of a piece”: it has the feel of a concept. There is continuity and consistency even though each track is different. It is coherent even as it darts from ambient and angular to aggressive folktronica to funkadelia. Welcome to the Brain is the fanfare, ushering you into Little Scream’s personal universe. Love as a Weapon is falsetto pop-funk, like Annie Clark doing Stayin’ Alive at Paisley Park. Dark Dance is Madonna and Bruce dancing in the dark. Introduction to Evan is 30 seconds of itchy, scratchy Jive Talkin’ guitar and noise overload. Evan is a husky rocker that builds from a ballad to a frenzied tumult. “I’ll be here in your prayers,” she croaks, the religious connotations clear even if what she is saying about the subject isn’t. Aftermath is one minute of brooding atmospherics, after which the album takes a turn for the experimental. Goodbye Every Body is a misty mix of ghostly wails and vapour trails. Just as the music shifts – often within songs as much as from song to song – so too does her voice. On Wishing Well she is a choir of weeping muses; on The Kissing she goes from a whisper to a scream. This is an artist in flux, in constant motion, searching for answers and finding many in her own music. On Love Is a Weapon she reminds herself as much as anyone else: “Just remember your greatest gift is to dance.” There is wit as well as whimsy and wonder on Cult Following, a quirky, affecting, richly detailed album that deserves more than its title.
The truth: She’s the Mont-real McCoy.
Most likely to: Incite communal glee.
Least likely to: Live on a commune.
What to buy: Little Scream is at the Sebright Arms in London on Monday 4 July. Cult Following is available on Merge.
File next to: St Vincent, Ladyhawke, Stevie Nicks, Prince.
Links: facebook.com/littlescream
Ones to watch: The Lemon Twigs, Face, Yehan Jehan, Chain Wallet, Club Kuru.
