I’m short on fresh things to say about Libby Johnson and her third solo album, Perfect View. I can’t think of anything that hasn’t been said before. Let’s make a list, shall we? The girl sings like the lovechild of Elliott Smith and Billie Holiday and gets down with her instruments like a sober Chan Marshall. She writes pretty lyrics that are sentimental without being cloying … and they’re catchy. They’re so catchy that as I write this, real live bystanders are humming along unknowingly. She’s walking the fine line between earworm and potentially obnoxious, and she falls on the right side every time. Subtle, but not forgettable, she’s easy to like but not without a sense of mystery. Listen to Perfect Viewonce and tell me you don’t want to listen to it 10 times. I did.
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