In her 45-minute long set at the Living Room, Theresa Anderson captured the most illusive and sought after element of a CMJ performance—complete captivation. There was a distinct buzz about Anderson on the Lower East Side tonight, but admittedly I had never heard of her. Yet, from the moment her bare feet stepped onto an off-white shag rug crowded with pedals and looping devices, it was clear she would deliver something special. Without a glance at the petite songstress, you would swear Anderson was operating with a full band complete with a slew of backup singers. She effortlessly looped drums, violin, guitar, and her own vocals over one another—patching together complete soundscapes that either glided over the audience with a subtle delicacy or bowled them over with the guttural power of a New Orleans soul singer. By the end of her performance, several photographers had put down their cameras, journalists had dropped their pens, and many in the packed house smiled sheepishly, their eyes all fixated on the powerful set Anderson was delivering.
"It's easy to dismiss blood and violence as salacious without considering why it is there, what its context is, and what it might communicate.READ the article