I wouldn't want to end up on Carla Bozulich's bad side. Recording under the moniker "Evangelista" (also the title of her last album), Bozulich produces music in the same manner that one of Macbeth's witches might conjure a spell or prophecy—from a bubbling cauldron of toad parts, human hair, and maybe some entrails. There is an otherworldly quality to her music that more than borders on the frightening; it seeps into that dark realm like a poisonous mist, and starts a fire in the hearth. This overtly gothic approach goes back to her work with industrial ensemble Ethyl Meatplow, but is combined and contrasted with a (relatively) lighter country-gothic side, previously evidenced in such projects as the Geraldine Fibbers and her interpretation of Willie Nelson's Red Headed Stranger.
The new album, Hello, Voyager, recorded in Montreal by Efrim Menuck, with Tara Barnes, Shahzad Ismaily, and members of Thee Silver Mt. Zion acting as the band and contributing string arrangements, invokes the many faces of her musical persona, ranging from the ironically ominous "Smooth Jazz" to the sparse and fragile "The Blue Room" to the speaker-fraying power of "Truth is Dark Like Outer Space" to the surreally nightmarish "The Frozen Dress." Finally, on the title track, as if giving over fully to the snarling hellhound that competes to be her muse, she delivers an 11-minute incantation wrought like a Gothic sermon, inhabiting the roles of exorcist and sadist. "When there's no hope, no hope left, there's only one word that hasn't dried on your parched lips: Can you say it with me? The word is love. Love! Tell the truth and be free," she commands, then taking the opposite perspective: "This is my hit and run. This is my porn collection. This is me feeling superior to you. This is me selling you out when you needed me most. This is my huge, diseased, throbbing prick... This is me. This is what I don't want people to see. Look upon me and let me be free!"
Indeed, Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned—unless you're into that sort of thing.