Instrumentation hangs delicately on every one of Emma Russack’s words – and so do we. Following an EP under the name Lola Flash, this first album radiates quiet composure and preternatural wisdom. Making subtle use of her voice’s earthy tones, Russack has created a record about finding herself (figuratively and literally) in Melbourne after a year in South America and time in Wollongong before that.

Yet it’s not a site-specific portrait, despite the title ‘Colombia’ and an image of the titular swimming spot “littered with eskies” in ‘Reservoir’. More so it’s a rumination on the invisible bonds branching out from us all. “Then I found a friend who showed me everything,” sings Russack on ‘He Was My Family’, while opining the opposite (“I’ve been trying but nothing gets through”) on the deserving single ‘Friends Not Lovers’. It’s like she’s testing all the different roles we assume in life until she finds a combination that works. Animals need not apply, though: “I can’t have anything that likes to be alone/I won’t have anything with a mind of its own” (‘No Pets’).

Emma Russack - 'He Was My Family' by SpunkRecords

In a few ways, Sounds of Our City is a kindred spirit of Teeth & Tongue’s Tambourine. Both revolve around a slow and smoky drawl, unsparing lyrics about relationships and snaking guitar work. Here the latter comes from Alec Marshall, who shares the slow-burn atmosphere with bassist/keyboardist Tim Picone and drummer Cameron Potts (Baseball, Cuba Is Japan). Kid Sam’s Kieran Ryan sing back-up, while Chris Altmann (Que Paso, The Vandas) offers gorgeous pedal-steel lamentation. Nick and Jessica Venables from Jessica Says play violin and cello, respectively, that shades rather than overshadows Russack’s world-weary way of singing.

For all its universal themes, the record still starts and ends with city life. The opening ‘Tonight’ is an unrepentant prowl for the most temporary of partners, even as the closing ‘This Love’ seems to find peace amid the same hunting grounds: “Lying on your chest/Listening to the sounds of our city.” With its rippling drift and minute-plus of silence at the end, the latter dissolves – if not exactly resolves – much of the inward pain that defines the other songs. It’s the most therapeutic of ellipses.

by Doug Wallen