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You Don’t Own Me Anymore is the latest release from The Secret Sisters. A twelve-song collection of haunting and vocally mesmerising tracks that were written by accident and unintentionally became an album. A cracking collection of folk and country that sounds like it could be plucked from the USA some hundred years ago. Available on Vinyl LP and CD.

  • LP £14.49
  • In stock / Ships in 1 working day ?
  • Shipping cost: £3.15 ?
  • NormanPoints: 145 ?
  • NW5187 / LP on New West
  • Includes download code
  • Only 1 copy left

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  • CD £9.99
  • Not in stock / Usually ships in 2-3 days ?
  • Shipping cost: £1.00 ?
  • NormanPoints: 100 ?
  • NW6397 / CD on New West

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You Don't Own Me Anymore by The Secret Sisters
1 review. Add your own review.
5 people love this record. Be the 6th!
7/10 Robin Staff review, 07 June 2017

This is nice, real nice, banjo nice, but may I just ask if I am in fact in 2017, two days away from a vote for the future of existence which will carry us to like 2022, when I’m listening to a record that sounds a whole milestone of generations older than me? The Secret Sisters are making folksy pop tunes that sound both far older and far more American than me, their country rock inflections offering wonderful close harmonies, poised strums and picks, twangs and pianos and the feeling of First Aid Kit taken in a tardis to their traditions.

The second track, “Mississippi”, is a deeply produced, lamenting barn burner about whiskey and the South -- after it achieves its chorus it lets atmospheric guitar riffs burn like fire from Chris Isaak’s compost. The song is gorgeous, clean and slightly pantomimic, becoming quite the symphony of ghostly choir vocals and rising string tremors. Tracks like this, if you can believe it, are coupled with the breeziest songs you’ve ever heard about states you’ve never been to -- “King Cotton”, which is definitely about Alabama, has a road-bumping bass line and a country good-time banjo jaunter, plus the kind of piano twinkling I only understand as a genre cliche.

It moves into “He’s Fine”, a totally distraught and utterly sparse ballad, as a sort of proof of how well these folks have studied the genre history they love. As well as make toe-tapping silliness, they can do things emotive and raw in ways you would probably not expect when you’re using this many hallmarks. Country music as indie pop that sounds like how it might've when I was minus fifty years old.


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