Let’s take a vote: who would have suspected that some of the most interesting songs in recent memory about slavery, voodoo and black oppression would come from a white woman from Alabama? Furthermore, how many of you would’ve suspected that her name would be “Orenda?” Me neither, guys. Me neither.

Invisible Ones is one of the most thought-provoking records of the year, both lyrically and instrumentally. Unlike a good deal of her Saddle Creek compatriates, Fink’s music is a satisfying mixture of intellectualism and emotion. The listener can tell that Fink has thought out every single word she is going to sing, yet no matter the number of times she has thought everything out, her passion cannot be extinguished. Her music ranges from the wry lounge feel of “Blind Asylum” to the southern gothic world of Flannery O’ Connor with my personal favorite song, “Les Invisibles”. Admittedly, there are some stylistic missteps; especially during “Miracle Worker,” a kind of new age trance music, overlong to the point of actually putting the listener into a trance. While I suspect I may have been floating above my seat during this track – and that should have been a memorable experience – the song was just too boring for me to enjoy or even remember levitation.

Also, lyrically speaking, I should be rolling my eyes at Fink for writing songs that have to do with the experiences of people who are primarily of African descent. Yet never at any time do I sense a hint of patronizing or exploitation; Fink’s earnest sincerity is lovely. She truly seems to empathize with the persons of Haiti and share a delight in their culture. And despite Haiti being one of Fink’s primary focuses, we are still able to find her, the songwriter, amidst all of the glamorous scenery. In “Dirty South”, Fink sings of her mixed feelings about Alabama. In “Easter Island,” when she sings, “Standing there helpless/like a child/the fight’s over and you won/but against who/ there’s no one there now/but me and you/I put you to bed”, there is no extraneous drama in her voice. Instead, Fink’s voice is raw and matter of fact. The lyrics might not even be based upon a real event, but she does a damn good job of making it seem so.

In fact, throughout the course of Invisible Ones, Fink does a fabulous job of taking the listener on an ominous adventure. There are moments to catch your breath, but the songs where it feels as if Fink herself was swinging from rope to rope, dodging tigers, and carrying a machete in her teeth – such as “Animal” – are the moments that really make her so exciting. Orenda Fink may not have a trademark hat or a movie trilogy, but she knows how to leave a listener waiting for her next album.

Reviewed by Megan Giddings