The opening track of Heather Kropf’s Hestia, titled “Joy Comes Like the Morning,” sneaks up on you slowly, with Kropf’s quiet, understated vocals buffeted gently by a lovely piano melody and some minimal steel guitar fills. There isn’t an ounce of flash in the track; it rises and falls purely on the strength of Kropf’s gifts as a songwriter and performer, much like Hestia itself – which is both a blessing and a curse. When it comes to the album’s stronger cuts, like “Morning” and the Laurel Canyon-tinged “Downtown” and “Kite,” Kropf presents herself as a bewitching blend of Shawn Colvin and Suzanne Vega, contrasting innocent-sounding vocals with pensive melodies and occasionally world-weary lyrics – but her inordinate fondness for sleepy melodies and plodding tempos leaves much of Hestia teetering between tasteful and dull. Kropf says her songs function as sanctuaries – for herself and, hopefully, for others – and there’s no denying the warm, cozy feel of this album, or Kropf’s gift for spinning deceptively simple webs of delicate sound. The end result is a record that feels as light as a feather, and may leave your attention wandering for songs at a time, but one that nonetheless leaves an unmistakable imprint. (Heather Kropf 2009)
