On her debut album, the Nashville-based singer-songwriter and her extraordinary voice search for a place to call home.
Sara Bug fills her songs with stories about self-discovery, set in scenes from the California coast to New Orleans, trying on different places, lovers, and selves as she eventually makes her way back to her home in Nashville. For her debut album, the New Orleans-raised singer-songwriter homes in on an emotive indie alt-country sound, a little pastoral, a little ragged. It’s a meandering but always welcoming journey that’s as mesmerizing as dandelion spores floating to the ground.
Across the record, Bug wanders around the geographic and emotional map looking for meaning. Her trip begins with the very first lyric: “I wanna be happy/I wanna be with you,” she sings on “Die With You,” as she elongates “I” with a touch of vibrato. Her voice sounds like the ding of a bell, bringing to mind the clarity of folk singers like Adrianne Lenker or Florist. When she sings about wanting to be someone—anyone, it seems—she trills urgently, dipping into an alto register as fuzzy electric guitar, bass, and horns crescendo into a soundscape that lasts over half the song. Even if she had some moment of clarity, it’s as if Bug isn’t fully ready to reveal herself yet.
Bug is absolutely luminous at the intersection of indie and alt-country. On “The Beholder,” one of the album’s strongest tracks, her stylized harmonies over jangly rock riffs and a drawling lap steel create a mix of dust and glamour, like stilettos stepping on a tumbleweed. As the album continues, Bug’s voice gradually gets twangier, like the way someone’s accent gets stronger when they cross their home state line. Along with the twang comes palpable confidence. By “Back In Nashville,” the album’s closer, Bug has transformed to a heady voice that recalls Dolly Parton on a few milliliters of helium. It’s a cartoonish, very fun, two-step track with steel guitars and exaggerated harmonies that sound like glitter erupting in a barn. The song departs from the cool indie rock tone that glosses the rest of the album, but it never feels like an exercise; not only does Bug fully inhabit the country setting but, importantly, she is such an extraordinarily precise vocalist.
That’s the real star of the show. Bug sounds like she’s both classically trained and accidentally good, able to toss in vibrato for some catharsis and take it out just as easily for hollowness. She can ascend to mountain-high notes or croon swampy alto ballads at the drop of a hat. Bug uses that dexterity to gradually build to the twanged-out, most confident version of herself at the end of the album, where she sings triumphantly, “I’m back in Nashville/Year after year/Tryin’ to make a family/In the dirt out here.” Of course she sounds best when she’s at home.
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