Shannon Wright
Flightsafety

The world of singer-songwriters is somewhat a separate realm within the broader universe of music. Traversing a parallel dimension, made up of simplicity and genuine emotions, it has managed over time to survive genres and trends that have emerged forcefully only to inevitably fade away. The world of singer-songwriters, I am certain, will continue to exist forever, beyond the clamor and fireworks of music that increasingly needs to astonish and less and less to communicate.

A voice and a guitar. The paradox of being a singer-songwriter is finding oneself making music that is the simplest there is and, at the same time, the most profound. Potentially, anyone with a guitar and a decent sense of tune can be a singer-songwriter. An apparently easy route, that of songwriting, which, compared to other musical genres, does not require the purchase of expensive equipment, does not need a rehearsal room, does not involve clashes of ego, and most importantly, does not bother the neighbor.

However, every choice has its consequence: when you are a singer-songwriter, you are alone, alone with your instrument, you cannot hide: something must give meaning to those two chords, to animate those compositions so sparse and elementary. Talent, inspiration, a communicative urgency. And whether in the darkness of one's room, on the beach by the sea, or on the street jotting down notes of one's emotions and chasing inspiration, when the miracle happens, the composition, although obvious and simple, shines with a special magic given by the immediacy of feelings that emerge and flow without filters, without aesthetic mediations or stunning tricks.

"Flightsafety" (1999) is the debut of Shannon Wright, a young American singer-songwriter, often compared to PJ Harvey, but in truth much closer to a soft and enveloping singer-songwriter style like Lisa Germano or Cat Power. Some see her as a female Elliott Smith. We talk about a melodic and catchy folk, as might be understood, yet Shannon Wright's folk is a folk that loves to explore (just consider the flamenco interlude in "Yard Grass"), that cannot resist the allure of Bjork (the childish lullaby of "Twilight Hall"), that sometimes does not fear to dabble in indie, only to settle again into intimate and often pop-tinged atmospheres (in the good sense of the term).

Giving 5 stars to this "Flightsafety", which is seen by many as the singer-songwriter's most inspired work, would, however, be excessive, as it would mean placing Shannon Wright in the pantheon of great singer-songwriters, alongside Joni Mitchell or Tori Amos. And while Shannon Wright certainly does not have the stature to write an "I See a Darkness" (Bonnie is Bonnie, perhaps the greatest singer-songwriter of our times!), she has the sensitivity, the talent, and the honesty sufficient to be regarded with great interest by those who love simple sounds yet rich with Life. Shannon Wright's music is steeped in personal and intimate experiences and sentiments, and whether it will outlast its time, I cannot say, but I can assure you that it represents a pleasant hue in the colorful world of contemporary music.

With simplicity, sobriety, and sweetness, her voice caresses our ears, knowing how to move us, but without ever attempting emotional blackmail with drastic bursts of ostentatious dramatism. The sound body of her music consists instead of a guitar and little more. A guitar that does not fear dissonant harmonies and gradually gets enriched with a piano, an accordion, the velvet touch of a cello. The drums, played by Shannon herself (who handles almost all the instruments!), is always imaginative and capable of giving the whole that touch of liveliness that, entwined with the melancholic atmospheres pervading the tracks, makes this work a kaleidoscope of emotions, a snapshot of everyday life portrayed with warm, delicate colors. With its pains and its joys. And it is precisely about the "small" pains and "small" joys of the simple everyday existence that Shannon speaks to us, far removed miles and miles from tragically existential ambitions.

By singing about herself, the artist sings a bit about all of us, grappling with our daily schizophrenia, between nuisances and pleasures, weaknesses and moments of redemption, dark parentheses, and flashes of unjustified joy. A subtle melancholy pervades the tracks, but it is a melancholy rich in nuances, at times sprinkled with hope, at times with bitterness, regressing to childhood, and at the same time, remaining firmly grounded in reality, assuming ironic tones, but also detachment and disenchantment. What is important to note is that Shannon does not look down on us. With humility and spontaneity, she offers a part of herself to us. And we are more than happy to embrace it for what it is.