The Forgotten Edge (ep)
Molly Lewis – born in Australia, living in L.A. and raised between Aussie and America – is a whistler. She watched a documentary about the fine, nearly lost art of musical whistling and wanting to try her hand at it. When that didn’t work, she put her lips together and started to blow. It seemed to do the trick. Now she’s releasing an EP showcasing her fine talent. She was signed to the trendy Jagjaguwar label on the back of her cabaret show where she combines aspects of spaghetti western soundtracks with tiki-bar kitsch grooves and sun-kissed muzak memories.
The Forgotten Edge is the Lynch-ian name of the part of town where Lewis lives. And if she didn’t already exist you’d have to figure that David would have invented her eventually for a scene in one of his films.
She really is an extraordinary talent. And this EP feels all at once like the best soundtrack album to a film you’ve never seen and the finest thrift-store vintage-record find.
It is of course neither. It is brand new music that so perfectly apes those styles.
The playing throughout is exquisite and Lewis’ bird-chirp whistle is something you have to hear. Utterly sublime.
I’m not joking.
Nor is she.
I really love this wee mini-album – right down to its knowing lack of length. The secret to this sort of party-trick is to know the limits and to never milk it for too long. The title track feels like Peter Nero, there are shades of Morricone and even some of Pino Donaggio’s soundtrack work. But this never strays over into loungey gimmick. This is simply flawless.
A breathe of fresh. Well, quite literally in fact.