Jordan Patterson: The Hermit

"What can't be accounted for, however, is that voice, which seems to exist entirely outside any lineage or explanation. Her singing almost seems to propose a new paradigm: What if all of the stress were emphasized in the backend? What if the human lung were capable of taking its largest breath just as it reaches emptiness? Cameron Winter, naturally, is a fan."

"The Hermit, Patterson's debut album, is around 70 percent vibrato. And it works. The technique becomes its own rhythm, a mechanism for pacing and release. She leans into her songs' most pliant vowels, sidestepping the self-conscious affect that so often accompanies "cursive" singing, that goyidd-awful vowel drift pioneered by female indie singer-songwriters and popularized by post-Tumblr stars like Halsey in the mid-2010s. Instead, Patterson turns vocal inflection into a kind of pulse; her style might best be described as post-cursive singing."

"Were it not for her voice, Patterson's music could well drift into the background of a Starbucks playlist; it's that ragged vibrato that makes the tall white chocolate mocha with whipped cream spill. The harmonies of her guitar are all quite straightforward. She works within a reverent folk framework, and plays it fairly straight: primary color chords, strings that build perfectly in place at the pre-choruses, and uncomplicated lyrics like "right person, wrong time.""

Jordan Patterson was born in North Carolina, raised on Roberta Flack, studied at L.A. County High School for the Arts, and discovered Nick Drake, Radiohead, and Ableton after moving west. Her music combines warm, slightly unsettled folk arrangements with straightforward guitar harmonies, primary chords, and string builds. The Hermit relies heavily on vibrato—around 70 percent—turning vibrato into a rhythmic mechanism for pacing and release. Patterson emphasizes backloaded stress and pliant vowels, avoiding mid-2010s 'cursive' vowel drift and instead creating a post-cursive vocal pulse. Occasional unconventional production choices puncture the simplicity of her reverent folk framework.

Read at Pitchfork