Kez Pietersen: If You Don’t Dream You Should

I have this romantic notion of a country full of bedroom musicians singing their hearts out, unconcerned by whether there’s a potential audience for their output, let alone a market. It’s the old cliché: I do it for myself and if anyone else likes it that’s a bonus. A fine sentiment, but there comes a point at which if you’ve got something to say, you need people to hear it. And so, it’s time to listen to Kez Pietersen.
Let’s get the disclosure out of the way first. Kez is a friend of the [DrunkenWerewolf] editor’s, which is precisely why Tiff isn’t writing this review and I am. Yes, pushing her into the limelight (via a couple of surreptitiously shared tracks on the DW LiveJournal page) and then reviewing her first EP might be considered nepotism of the highest order, but rest assured that I’ve (sadly) not been handed a fat wad of scruffy fivers in return for a good review.
Not that this would be necessary. The first time I heard the title track of this EP, I was hooked. I played it constantly for a long time. I also pushed it in several friends’ directions, many of whom struggled with the rawness of both its execution and its sentiments. Unsurprising, since this EP was created in the time-honoured tradition that has stood many fledgling artists in good stead: press Record, play the music, press Stop.
Is this just a polite way of saying that actually, it’s all a bit crap? No. Quite the reverse. This is an intense blast of pure personality. In one sense it’s “just” a generic acoustic singer-songwriter release, but – crucially – I’ve never heard anyone who sounds quite like this. It’s a pure expression of self and ultimately that’s what the best art is all about. There’s all the time in the world to polish things up later.
The no-bullshit approach extrends to the lyrics, which cover relationships (“You’re not man enough to be my man”), self-examination & self-doubt (“I’ve fallen behind, yes I’ve lost my mind”), truth & deceit (“Your cryptic bullshit means nothing now”) and bitter-sweet character sketches (“Pour another glass, it’s just another bottle from daddy’s cellar”). She’s cynical at times, but ultimately an optimist.
5st 2lb is one of the strongest tracks, a relentlessly descending progression that recalls Manic Street Preachers’ 4st 7lb in more than just subject matter (the opening “One in five die with their hands in their throat…” floors me every time). She has a beautiful voice: sweet and slightly husky, which balances nicely against the intensity of many of the lyrics and carries the EP through its occasional flaws.
Its roughness is precisely what I love about this collection. From a technical point of view, the playing is all over the place: sometimes hesitant, with fluffed notes, missed plucks and inconsequential fuck-ups. She sounds like she’s working at the limit of her abilities, but that’s why it’s so good. This is a real human being, with a guitar, a handful of chords and a head full of ideas. It’s not slick.
There are many different things that you can demand of the music that you listen to. If you’re after a honed, crafted studio performance, this EP isn’t for you. If, on the other hand, you’ve ever been captivated by the early boombox intimacy of Mountain Goats, Diane Cluck’s circular introspection or Kristin Hersh singing Appalachian murder ballads, you’ll find plenty here that’s deserving of your attention.
This review was written in June and originally published in DrunkenWereWolf issue 5 in October. DrunkenWerewolf is published bi-monthly and covers new and unusual acts who operate in a roughly acoustic/indie/experimental vein.