Metamorphic is Emmy Cerra's album from start to finish. To stay true to her own musical vision, she plays the guitar, does her own mixing and writes every song she sings. The effort she puts into perfecting her sound becomes especially impressive when she starts to sing -- because from the moment Emmy Cerra begins to sing, nothing else matters.

Her tunes are sometimes haunting things. "Unshallow" slithers along on an insistent undercurrent of guitar seduction. "Nicotine Princess" throbs with the urgency of addiction. The harmonica in "Late Night Collecting" breathes in melancholy sighs. Every track of Metamorphic delivers a payload of heartache or desperate hope, carried in eloquent blues and rock inspired tunes that dance just outside of genre borders. But it's Cerra's voice that changes her songs, turns them from interesting tunes into powerful, hurtful, driving blows of raw emotion. Cerra's voice tends for the low notes, where it travels dark and smooth; but she can push it high and run it raw when needed. It's a dangerous weapon, used with surgical precision and earthquake force. If Cerra sung the phonebook, it would be beautiful. When she uses that voice to deliver her darkly poetic, black-blues songs, it's downright addictive.

The first hit of that sweet high will cost you the price of a CD, but after that it's free and ready to answer every late night craving. It won't put fat on your thighs or strain on your marriage, but it will keep you hoping for more with every track. An addiction can't treat you better than Metamorphic.

by Sarah Meador
Rambles.NET
3 December 2005

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