Sometimes you just know. You hear a song and, well, time all but stops. Maybe it’s a tune playing in the background of a movie or TV show that sends you scurrying for the remote so you can replay the scene in question and, hopefully, Shazam it. Maybe, instead, it’s an opening act that features an Americana lilt or a harpist pushing past the stereotypes of her instrument. Or, perhaps, it’s a song that pops from an otherwise ho-hum playlist—or an instantly intoxicating snippet showcased in an Instagram ad.
Interspersed betwixt the actors, singers, giraffes, tigers, and house cats that think themselves tigers, for example, the Metaverse serves me a never-ending stream of indie singer-songwriters hawking their recent and not-so-recent releases. Most, and there’s no judgment here, aren’t for me; they’re either too juvenile, too pop, too metal, too this, or too that. Still, I’ve discovered quite a few new-to-me singer-songwriters just starting on their journeys, including—last May—Charlotte Morris. I remember, in the ad, her buttery vocals slipping high one moment and sliding low the next, while the song itself navigated a country-inflected folky terrain. I knew, in that instant, I wanted her as part of my life’s soundtrack.
I ordered her album at the time, Wild Child, the same day and, thanks to the wonders of the streaming age, played it nonstop for the next good while (and spotlighted it here). Somewhere in there, Diane heard it and liked it as much as me. “I’d see her if she came here,” she said—or words to that effect. “Funny you should say that,” I replied—as it happened, she was slated to play a free show near us the next week! Accompanied herself on acoustic guitar, she delivered a spellbinding set that mixed catchy confessionals with tuneful musings.
A year later and Both Sides, her third album, is slated for release this Friday; those of us on her mailing list have been able to enjoy it since last week via a SoundCloud link. As expected, it’s a folk-flavored set that’s contemplative, feisty and sweet. “Raised by a Woman,” the lead-off track, celebrates the role women play in shaping life. She explained to Naluda magazine that it began as a love song but “quickly turned into an anthem, an homage, to women, and to mothers.”
“Back to You” slows things down with a song about losing love, with strings cushioning her velvety vocals. When she sings in her upper register, wow. “Living & Loving” ups the tempo a tad while inventorying the debris of a failed relationship. “Villain” is one of the feisty numbers I referenced above; it finds her hoping to be a WWE heel to her two-timing ex’s babyface act. The dramatic “Changing My Number” finds her, with everything crashing down, leaving town in order to escape said ex. “Devil & Me,” about self-doubt, could well be a Broadway showstopper or Peggy Lee number; it sports a powerful swing.
The contemplative “Maine,” on the other hand, reminds me of the Joni songs of the late 1960s—perhaps because I’ve been listening to Clouds while running errands of late. In it, she admits “part of me is racing forward, but another part feels stuck in muddy ground” and facing a disturbing facet of adulthood: “And I know growing up means living contradictions/but I’ve yet to figure out how pieces fit.”
“Neighborhood Bar” swaps the life insights for a celebration of pubs where everybody knows your name and are always glad you came. The hopeful “As Is,” which follows, finds her hoping to find someone who takes her as she is, flaws and all. “Come Tomorrow” explores what happens when the high of a new love fades and, as with “Back to You,” finds her singing in her upper register. The mid-tempo “Stronger Than Before” reflects on past relationships, while observing “it takes a lot of work to make forever last” and that, despite the hurt she’s endured, her heart remains strong.
The penultimate track, “Created Me,” unearths the ancestral roots that feed her—and our— present. We are all, after all, the product of those who came before us, carrying their strengths and even weaknesses wherever we may go. (ancestry.com would do well to make it their theme song. Just sayin’.) A sublime cover of Joni Mitchell’s “Both Sides Now” closes the album on a high note; it’s what led me to my current Clouds obsession.
We live in a strange age when many talented singer-songwriters are lost in a never-ending stream of distractions, from the cacophony of mindless noise that populates playlists to the endless scrolls of social media. Both Sides is a wonderful album that cuts through that morass; to my ears, it represents everything good about popular music.
(One can purchase it on CD via Charlotte’s online store. While there, be sure to check her tour itinerary and, if she’s coming near you, be sure to catch her in concert.)
The Old Grey Cat 
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