Anna Ash's sophomore record, Floodlights, is a test of tension. Tension between her sun-baked concrete present in Los Angeles, and the faint and frozen nostalgia of her northern Michigan past. Nights spent waitressing and days in the studio — love spent lonely, in a city choked with people. A lifestyle that destroys your life, and that freakish resilience that keeps you breathing. Her voice holds a rare type of hesitation, careful not to reveal too much of itself too soon, while her lyrics urgently, precisely, pleadingly, throw it all on the table, bare, under a blazing white cold light.
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