Continuing with the austere sincerity she carved out on 2011's
Rabbits on the Run,
Vanessa Carlton nevertheless opens up a bit on 2015's
Liberman, an album named after her grandfather and written in the years after the singer/songwriter married and started a family.
Carlton doesn't directly reference her lineage anywhere on
Liberman, but with its ghostly music box pianos, electronic watercolors, staccato strings, and elliptical melodies, the album feels simultaneously elusive and introspective. While
Carlton rarely quickens her pulse here -- at best, the record achieves a gentle simmer, never a boil -- all the slyly shifting sonics enveloping the songs give
Liberman a painterly feel, which seems inviting where
Rabbits on the Run often felt insular.
Carlton is still avoiding any of the grand gestures that defined her earliest work but at this point, this quietly meditative pop feels like a truer reflection of her intentions than "A Thousand Miles." [A Deluxe Edition added a second disc with eight bonus tracks, mostly different takes on songs from the album.] ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine