Tamar Berk has been bubbling around for almost forever. She has been exceptionally prolific in the last five years--this is her fifth album in that time. I've never completely connected with her albums before, but this one does the job. Maybe it's the music, which is easily her most involved and accomplished. It's kinda spacey, kinda shoegazey and still very confessional.

Tamar Berk ocd (self-released)

The sound is very much like Liz Phair's Whitechocolatespaceegg, though Berk's lyrics are pretty much about herself and not the myriad of characters that Phair likes to create. So the fuzz and scrim wrap up those personal observations, and somehow the songs find their bursting points. And enough along those lines; it's boring to compare kick-ass female singers to Phair, and I'm starting to be sorry I went down this path. Almost. I still think the sonic palettes are similar.

One of the perks of listening to Berk is that she doesn't sit still. Even on a mostly fuzzy album like this one, she still finds time to kick out a couple of bangers. And unlike recent Berk albums, this diversity of sound actually helps to create a cohesive feel. The chaos here feels like it has a point.

When you record five albums of original material in five years, you might get repetitive. Or, as in Berk's case, you might refine your vision. In many ways this feels like a summation of her recent work, or perhaps those albums serve as the notes to this finished paper. I hear a lot of bits from those albums, but on this album every idea is more muscular and fully fleshed out. If you lost track of Berk, this is a good time to reconnect. And if you've never dropped by, come on in and sit a spell. I promise you'll find something you like.

Jon Worley