Peggy Honeywell
Faint Humms

If you search for some information online, you'll discover that Peggy Honeywell is the name of the protagonist of a novel published in Italy in the Harmony series (!?)
If you listen to the album, you might wonder if there is any connection between the musician and the intriguing and mysterious bed & breakfast owner described in that book, which we can imagine isn't exactly a masterpiece.

Behind the sweet concoction of this funny pseudonym hides Clare Rojas, from Philadelphia, also known for her work as a painter.
And this Faint Humms is her second album.
In her debut album, "Honey for Dinner," she had the production of Paul Oldham (Will's brother) and collaboration of David Pajo (Slint, Tortoise).

This time she decides to do everything on her own.
Her words, an acoustic guitar, a banjo.
15 songs of disarming simplicity, much like the tone of her voice which maintains the veiled promise of the pseudonym: a soft and intimate sweetness, to which it's easy to surrender.
No temptation of "modernity" in Faint Humms: no folktronica, no new country.
The delicate strength of her album lies in imparting to the linearity and immediacy of the songs, which glide between bluegrass and country folk, a naturalness that transports them from the solitary and silent place from which they seem to have taken flight to our ears, maintaining a lightness that allows them to sound immediately intimate and sincere.
And fresh. Like waking up in the gentle breeze of mornings that open onto bright days, where anything is possible. Whether the sky turns to a melancholic shade of gray, or one finds oneself around a small fire, ignited in a homely prairie, listening to a very short story on the notes of a banjo.
Whether, as in the penultimate track, “Humms,” even words end up becoming unnecessary.
We leave them outside the door and let her slight closed-lip whisper suggest everything, guiding us into an evening that will arrive bearing its imperceptible mystery.

A short album (31’32’’) certainly not a masterpiece, that sounds humble and brotherly.
A pause in the company of a voice I enjoy listening to, while all around too many people keep shouting sensational news and poets filled with pathos sprout like mushrooms, demanding our attention.
A short album that, however, could bore you to death, friend, because of its absolute simplicity.
Or perhaps because you detest honey.
The samples might help you discover if you want to take the “risk.”.

I'm heading out for a walk with her.
See you.