The work of Alabama-based Americana-folk artist Sylvia Rose Novak is mired in roughhewn Southern experiences and the gothic atmospheres of her home state. Previously making her way through the country-folk scenes in Alabama, she recently took a turn towards a sound with a bit more muscle, something a bit more rock-oriented. Taking the form of her upcoming record, Bad Luck, this stylistic tangent finds her embracing the darker influences and histories that have shaped her perspective on music and the way she approaches it creation.
Channeling the spirits of artists like PJ Harvey, John Prine, and My Bloody Valentine, she crafts a mesmerizing collage of rumbling inspirations and barbed thoughts concerning her own agency, with both middle fingers raised high for all to see. She maintains a singular twang and emotional clarity throughout, though her music is now infused with a intoxicating brew of denser rhythmic material.
Due out May 8, the album was produced by Novak and Brad Lyons, who also mixed and recorded the sessions. Providing insight into the realities of addiction, personal growth and the internal and external struggles we all face on a day-to-day basis, the record seeks to highlight the tumultuous lives of people whose worlds are filled with work hard and anxiety, but who also find comfort in the recollection of honest experiences and the music which lays bare these affecting narratives.
Recently, Novak shared a new single, “Waiting on October,” a rambling country-rock opus that recalls Spyboy-era Emmylou Harris and Steve Earle’s undeniable resolve. The guitars in the song shake and shiver as the world burns around her, filling the sky with bloody hues and the feeling of desperation. Her voice, though, is clear and strong, a beacon for those who hope to survive in this new and altered reality. Despite the fact that everything eventually ends, Novak shows us that there may be something left after the ashes scatter and the dust finally settles on the ground.
“When I was a full-time horse trainer, I lived on a small farm in Nowhere, AL,” Novak reveals. “The sun would set a violent red in the fall, and it looked like the trees and fields were on fire. I’ve become unnaturally fixated on various apocalyptic scenarios in the last several years, and every time I think about the end of the world, I think about that particular shade of red on that particular landscape. A flaming vermillion wave that engulfs everything. ‘…October’ was born from the feeling that imagery inspires in me — the acceptance of total devastation with startling apathy.”
