It could have been daunting for a girl and her electric guitar, unknown to many, making what was only her second appearance as a solo artist. That the audience stood rapt and silent throughout Ghetto's set was nothing short of shocking, and its wild applause at the end visibly took Ghetto and her friends by surprise. No sound more explosive than a whisper had been heard over her breathy, fragmented stories set to blustery guitar, each one deceptively sparse but laden with quick tempo changes and shifts from one emotion to another. In Ghetto's lyrical mind, love is something to be attained but not trusted, and blackened hearts rejuvenate and become lush with green hope as soon as the tiniest promise of potential presents itself again.
Desperation breeds contempt in others, but loneliness nurtures contempt for the self.
Guess I'll just keep that to myself. Audibly, it's a visceral release that sounds pure and unedited, the uninterrupted thoughts and perfectly formed logic that come from one-sided conversations and arguments with yourself. It's a journey that Ghetto brings her listeners on, but she's not going to provide a travel plan for anyone coming along. The melody dances sadly, swaying and twirling and changing partners vocally as the layers and verses trade characters. It's part lullaby, part love song, and entirely mesmerizing in its dreaminess.