Another Wainwright -- Martha -- makes a name for herself
Martha Wainwright
Lizard Lounge, Cambridge, Massachusetts
January 12, 2005
by Marc Hirsh

originally published in The Boston Globe, January 14, 2005

It would be tempting for someone armed with only her basic biographical details to dismiss Martha Wainwright as nothing more than a nepotistic novelty. With her brother Rufus having successfully deflected criticism about being the son of two of the bigger names of the 1970s folk scene to become a potentially major artist in his own right, it would seem easy enough simply to move the crosshairs onto Martha (who, thanks to Rufus, now has one more famous relative to deal with) and fire away at her music career.

Wainwright more or less rendered questions of her qualifications moot during her set at the Lizard Lounge on Wednesday night, and her case was bolstered by the size and fervor of the audience waiting for her. Despite a debut album that isn’t set to be released for another three months, Wainwright’s career stretches back over eight years and three EPs, if not further; someone in the crowd bragged about having seen her sing 25 years ago with father Loudon III.

Backed by a nicely sympathetic band that was equally adept at roots-pop, singer/songwriter confessionals and atmospheric country-folk, Wainwright had the confidence of someone who didn’t feel the need to prove anything to anyone. Slightly hunched over a microphone that seemed a few inches lower than it probably should have been, she began with the title track to this month’s Bloody Mother Fucking Asshole EP (due out on Rounder on January 25) and spent the next hour singing songs that reflected the close-but-no-cigar discomfort of Wainwright’s performance posture. Her lyrics generally didn’t leave a lot of room for happiness and joy.

That lyrical fatalism never became a problem, though, since the most important weapon in Wainwright’s arsenal was her voice, which resembled a husky-throated Tanya Donelly singing as though she were Patti Smith. It was inelegant at times, as though she had to get it out regardless of niceties, but it was effective; the catch in her voice helped propel the shift from quiet to loud and back again in “Jimi (Takes So Much Time),” and her solo performance of “Bring Back My Heart” left the audience so stunned that there was a brief but noticeable pause between the end of the song and the applause.

The highlight of her performance was the subdued but riveting torch song “You’ve Got A Way.” “When you are gone, I’ll cry,” Wainwright sang with just a tinge of Billie Holiday added to her voice, “but until then I’ll crack a smile.” By that point it was clear enough that whatever doors her name may have opened, Wainwright is worthy of walking through them.

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