Heather Leigh has done such varied work in such a diverse range of settings since leaving Charalambides in the mid-00′s, it seems rather absurd to rank or generalize her discography. Yet somehow I Abused Animal feels like a culmination of everything she’s done up to now, and a crowning achievement in her career. This despite the fact that it doesn’t sound like a survey of any kind; the music here is primarily simple and direct, with songs often containing just two musical elements or even, in the case of the stirring a capella piece “Passionate Reluctance”, just one. But Leigh’s sheer confidence, focus, and laser-like direction turn what in lesser hands might be a set of intriguing experiments into a defining, all-encompassing statement.

As a result, it’s pretty impossible to listen to I Abused Animal without it commanding your full attention and transporting you to a different mental state. Perhaps Leigh’s basic figures - especially the slow scale-climbing notes in “Quicksand” - are like a hypnotist’s swinging clock, and her voice like a sun that freezes your stare. But there’s more to her overwhelming charms than those inadequate metaphors, because even the noisier tracks - take the ripping “All That Heaven Allows”, wherein Leigh’s electric guitar screams parallel her vocal journeys – retain the album’s unending sense of zoned-in, locked-down purpose. 

The result is music that’s simultaneously lulling and disorienting (see especially the gently-warped “Fairfield Fantasy”, streaming below); it forcefully massages your back as it punches you firmly in the head. Every time I listen to I Abused Animal I end up feeling blissful, woozy, and ultimately desperate to take some more shots of this beautiful potion, easily one of the best albums of 2015.

– Marc Masters

HEATHER LEIGH on I Abused Animal

I was forced to get up well before the crack of dawn on childhood camping trips hitting the water early to beat everyone else and catch the best fish. I’d wear a colorful swimsuit and my turquoise windbreaker, stepping outside barefoot on leaves and worms. I’d put on my tennies but not wipe my feet first so my wrinkled flesh could mingle with the dirt and damp inside my shoes. We’d set off softly in our small steel boat not turning on the motor til we were a little ways out. Fog and mist obscured our view, the quiet so thick it was stifling. Alligator gar floated dead on the lake’s surface, the stench unforgettable. Whirlpools attracted me, the danger of getting sucked in if I got too close. I’d jump off the boat and swim even though I was very scared of what lurked beneath. One summer I invited a cute boy staying near my camp to help me clean my catch. I loved tearing out the fish innards with a knife, feeling the pull of the flesh across bones. My hands mingled with the boy’s as we cleaned the fish together, fondling all that red blood, guts everywhere.