With From Newman Street, her third full-length record, Kassi Valazza returns bearing a collection that feels both like a farewell letter and a quiet reset. Following the acclaim of Kassi Valazza Knows Nothing in 2023, expectations were high, and while this new set doesn’t radically alter her trajectory, it solidifies her standing as one of folk-Americana’s most captivating voices.
Valazza splits the songs between two homes: half conceived in Portland, where she spent a decade, and half in New Orleans, her new base. The duality is audible—northwest mist and southern humidity brushing up against one another—but the album is sequenced with intention, culminating in the title track, a hushed remembrance of a beloved Portland apartment that now belongs to memory.
The opening Better Highways sets the tone with sunlit chords and a distinctly 1960s folk lilt, a gentle rejection of materialism in favor of something freer. Birds Fly leans dreamier, its vibraphone shimmer and pedal steel glow cushioning Valazza’s wistful imagery. On Roll On, a fiddle enters, nudging the music toward bluegrass, though her vocals keep it rooted in introspection rather than celebration. The weight of impermanence carries into Weight of the Wheel, arguably the record’s emotional centerpiece, where Erik Clampitt’s steel guitar bends around Valazza’s plaintive delivery, evoking the ghosts of classic country balladry.
The Joni Mitchell comparisons that trailed her last release remain here, especially in the phrasing of Shadow of Lately and the brisk jangle of Your Heart’s a Tin Box. Yet, Valazza resists imitation; her palette expands to embrace honky-tonk hues, Appalachian tones, and even echoes of classic country crooners like Ray Price. This blend prevents the record from sounding like an exercise in nostalgia—it’s reverent, but it’s also lived-in.
Market Street Savior digs deeper into personal territory, pairing lyrical vulnerability with understated arrangements, highlighting her preference for confessional honesty over detached storytelling. The final track, From Newman Street, strips everything back to its barest form. With only a few chords and an image of someone washing dishes while she wonders from afar, Valazza distills the album’s themes: holding love in memory while learning to let it go.
If Knows Nothing hinted at her range, From Newman Street feels more focused, almost narrower in scope, but intentionally so. It’s less about reinvention than about closing a chapter. Some listeners may wish for bolder risks, but what Valazza offers instead is a portrait of transition—fragile, unhurried, and quietly luminous.
From Newman Street doesn’t attempt to outshine its predecessor, but it doesn’t need to. It’s an album about living in between places, in between loves, and in between selves—and in that unsettled space, Valazza finds a voice that feels steady, even when she’s still moving on. – Jason Felton
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