You have no idea about Emily Wells. I’m not even sure she’s real. She’s too cool to be real, too talented, too strange. She’s definitely a figment of my imagination, some kind of daydream. She could tour with Andrew Bird and Jay-Z and feel right at home. She plucks violin strings staccato, slides her trembling bow across them legato, plinks tiny pianos, strums ukes, snaps off healthy drum samples as if in her sleep, and loops them all together like some master seamstress. She croons with guile and moxie and something to prove then rides the beat right into an unexpected hip-hop segment. She’s really good. Maybe too good.
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