I'm moving out and moving in, packing up running to ruin. Yesterday night I was at a good-bye party. We laughed a lot and had a nice time. My slacker friend is moving away to Dublin to teach French and meet his beloved Peggy Sue. Maybe it was the alcohol or the cute boy by my side but I didn't really feel sad. Maybe it was the jokes and the laughter. Or maybe I just can't feel anything anymore. 

I don't really know why I haven't paid last year's The Blackened Air much attention. People told me it was great and I know they were right since they are people who can be trusted as far as music goes. And I don't know why I have given Run to Ruin a chance. Maybe the format helps. It's 8 songs and 31 minutes long. Which is nice. 

In my dreams Nina Nastasia is an expatriated Russian songwriter, running away from one evil to the other, living in NYC writing delicate songs with lots of craftsmen friends helping her to dress them up with wood, skin and brass. And Steve Albini gladly pushes the "rec" button.

The traditional popular eastern-european arrangements remind me of bits and pieces of Mirah's latest album, her voice fluctuates from fragile Chan Marshall to dark Hope Sandoval. The eight songs are far from being similar to one another, Nina Nastasia can switch from one persona to another, from the dreamlike fairy mumbling "I know what you said" on Superstar to the crystalline-voiced choir singer of The Body. It's been a long time since I last listened to an album that cohesive and yet so impressively diverse. For all the ones who didn't get to hear The Blackened Air, Run to Ruin presents an impressively talented and unique songwriter. For the other lucky ones, Run to Ruin shows an even darker Nastasia struggling against tides of damp euphoria and dry resentment.

-Barbara H

/july 1st 2003/