The Outside Room is the first solo record from the talented Natalie Mering, after working with Jackie-O-Motherfucker, and under the name Weyes Bluhd. On this LP, released on 2011 on the consistently interesting Not Not Fun Records, out of LA, she summons six spectral soul ballads, somewhere beyond time and genre and fad.

On The Outside Room , Mering reverts to a more conventional song-writing approach, emerging from the tape experiment blur of Weyes Bluhd. Instead, she writes wrenching human narratives using melody, harmony; interplay of traditional rock instruments such as guitar, organ, bass, thunderous drums. What you are left with, is like listening to soul or gospel in slow-motion, through the thin wall of a cheap hotel. These bones are gilded with scrapes squeaks chimes and ensonced in miasmah: an ornate and decorative sculpture of reverb, delay, and fuzz. The lasting impression is anachronistic; it is like falling in slow motion.

I think The Outside Room sounds like Liz Harris' netherworld than the ubiquitous Nico reference, mentioned in every other soundbite about this record. I think its unfair, to be honest; its like comparing every dude who wears sunglasses and sings about drugs to Lou Reed. I feel that's two dimensional thinking, and ignoring the craft involved here. Mering is blurring pop and experimental musicks, she is making something artsy and classic.

One thing she does have in common with Nico is a solemn, gothic feel, also reminiscent of some of the later Swans. She speaks in interviews about being obsessed Halloween and other creepy things. But hers' is an enthralling, feminine kind of creepiness, different than the horrorshow slasher brutality of Wolf Eyes, or even the otherworldliness of Jandek. Instead, her world is rich and full of feeling, full of shadows and dust and notebooks. The Outside Room is a place where much has happened, goodbadotherwise. Laughter, tears, sex, boredom. It is beyond easy answers and trite description.

This record stands up extraodinarily wall to scrutiny, it bears the weight of repeat listening with grace and applomb. It is a suitable soundtrack for drinking tea at night, or a soft reminiscent afternoon. This was limited to 480 copies, on Not Not Fun, and there's still some available. Highly recommended, much appreciated.