Pitchfork

Nina Nastasia has a knack for singing about talking. Of the 10 excellent songs on You Follow Me, eight of them cite, narrate, or allude to conversation. It's fitting, then, that her latest album-- a deeply communicative collaboration with virtuoso drummer Jim White-- is among the most solid and striking things she's ever released. White's nuanced drumming makes a perfect foil for Nastasia's sturdy voice, and the interaction between the two is entrancing.

White and Nastasia wrote and arranged You Follow Me together, and the depth and caliber of their collaboration is immediately apparent. Every chord, note, and drum hit seems perfectly arranged for maximum impact; a well-placed kick or snare drum often feels like a punch in the chest. White masterfully teeters between order and chaos, pushing Nastasia into previously unexplored expressive territory. And though the album is arranged solely for vocal, guitar, and drums, it never feels stale or samey. If anything, the record's economy makes it all the more arresting.

Steve Albini's stark and sinewy production further highlights the album's dynamic range. From the skittering shuffle of "Our Discussion" to the authoritative boom of "Late Night", nothing on You Follow Me is half-baked or half-assed. "The Day I Would Bury You" brings to mind Will Oldham's "Nomadic Reverie", gradually building in intensity before dying down to a haunting murmur. By the song's end Nastasia is barely audible, perfectly expressing the song's confusion and devastation.

As with the music, Nastasia's lyrics here never seem haphazard or tossed off. Over the course of the record, dry observations and lyrical metaphors are deployed strategically and purposefully, evoking the sober ease of the early evening and the vivid horror of the late night. The feverish naturalistic imagery of "I've Been Out Walking" seems just as comfortable and well-placed as the more pensive narration of "Our Discussion". On album closer "I Come After You", White's decisive and muscular drumming weaponizes Nastasia's lyrical indictments ("Don't think you are exceptional / Don't dream you're better than anyone else").

Clocking in at just over a half-hour, You Follow Me avoids the aimless indulgence that musicians communicating at this level often succumb to; it's clear that Nastasia and White made pains to ensure that every second of You Follow Me is indispensable. And, sure enough, not a single sound on this record falls outside of the album's unending and all-encompassing dialog. These songs are built like a Jenga game; it's hard to imagine subtracting a single piece without the whole thing falling apart. At a time when piling on wacky instruments often passes an excuse for lackluster songwriting, You Follow Me is incredibly refreshing. Like the best conversation partners it doesn't talk a lot, but it says a lot.