Katie Crutchfield is an all American kinda gal and an indie dream, just the right amount of awkward, confessional and doe-eyed. She’s named her project after a creek near her parent’s house in unknown Shelby, Alabama, perhaps because small-town feelings are so central to Waxahatchee and certainly this second album. Debut LP, ‘American Weekend’, was released just last year, and ‘Cerulean Salt’ brims with a prolific innocence – a get-it-down-and-get-it-out dairy-like quality.

It’s anti-folk meets grunge-lite, not a million miles away from London duo Big Deal; the meeting of gently fuzzing acoustic guitars and crystalline vocals that want you to hear every single word, with the occasional delivery of something fleshed-out but hardly heavy. It’s Crutchfield’s unabashed nature that’ll have you wishing The OC hadn’t been cancelled, and ‘Cerulean Salt’ could itself soundtrack a whole season of LA models staring at Middle American lakes as they come of age. Cynicism doesn’t wash here – it’s a pure, sweet record.

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