A singer with a voice simultaneously coolly detached and fierce with emotion, a composer of barbed folk music, of songs that teem with textures and chord patterns divorced from the sonic architecture of contemporary pop; with every EP release since 2013 debut That Iron Taste, Hackman has strengthened the impression of an artist standing apart.
Her debut album, We Slept At Last, is no exception. A world of darkness lies behind its quietly infectious, sometimes light, melodies. Ghostly atmospherics support foggy, grunge guitars while ethereal vocals conjure the gothic melodrama of a Victorian novel with their mythical, poetic words. Beautiful and bruised, suspense filled and savage, We Slept At Last is as immediate as they come. We almost forgive her for the lycanthropic slaughter of Laura Marling.