Brainchild of an Artist Ready for Action and Attention

Vicky Farewell is an emerging voice in the current landscape of alternative music. With her latest release, Give A Damn, instead of finding a home along the shores of the alternative sea, if one will, she’s decided to emerge fresh as a crashing wave on the rocky shores of R&B island. The cover art of the album tells the full story, depicting her standing in the sunlight on a lone rock atop some white water, a bulkier formation of massive boulders behind her. It’s an image that should help listeners put two and two together: what’s in store for them is the perfect collection of tracks for the summer ahead of them all. 

Farewell’s remembered right from the start. She uses “Intro (Remember Me)” to inform her audience that she’s not around to mess around; rather, she’s here to make her voice heard. Give A Damn, then, begins with something to give a damn about, namely, a young artist whose purpose is becoming clearer and clearer to her through all her releases. She does an interesting thing with this opening track: she utilizes the background music which is characteristic of a video game out of the eighties. Without even trying, Farewell’s catapulted herself into great company, as she’s now positioned closer to Samus Aran, a female protagonist who long ago earned a sacred spot in the hearts of Nintendo geeks everywhere. 

“Make Me” feels very much like a track Faith Evans, Missy Elliot, or Lauryn Hill could’ve produced back in their respective heydays, assisting with putting Farewell in even more great company. The song is ceremonial, monumental, and really captures those feelings of desperation common of reachers in love. As for the synthesizers, they’re used cleverly, becoming curious whiners. Then comes Farewell’s mesmerizing voice, she using it to masterfully handle those breathless proclamations so typical in these kinds of records, ones that villainize a romantic interest that’s not doing anything correctly. 

Give A Damn doesn’t stick with one singular sound, thankfully. Farewell has drums, the thumping soothingly rhythmic, on “Push It.” That track is something that could one day easily find itself on a lo-fi study-to playlist, or it could be played in the club — the choice is the listener’s, and not many musicians leave that often-jammed door open. “Textbook” must’ve done some time-traveling, since it sounds like something reminiscent of what was once played all day long on R&B radio stations throughout the nineties. It’s simply a classic love letter of a song, being jazzy and groovy. To, also, get at the heartbreaking musings of someone trapped in the shackles of unrelenting heartbreak, Farewell playfully sings, “I don’t wanna see you again” a few times, but then by the song’s end that line transforms into “I don’t want you again.” The brilliance isn’t hard to come by.  

“Tern Me On” might just be the strongest track a part of Give A Damn. Perhaps her misspelling the word “turn” in the song’s title was intentional. It seems that there needs to be this undivided attention given this one, and rightly so. The album itself is all about longing, yes, but that wouldn’t be so easy to discern without the presence of “Tern Me On.” There’s a lot of that reaching on it, and the good balance flowing through it makes for the perfect love song of sorts. It’s chill, the synths a great touch, they helping to relax the piece. 

Entirely, Give A Damn must not be digested lightly. It’s a platform upon which a young artist — a talented one, to say the least — is building up her repertoire. Farewell’s completed something that should get audiences excited and eager for whatever’s next. The anticipation, now, might skyrocket, but that’s just okay, for it’s not like Farewell won’t find a way to stand at higher heights in the future.