f The Blackened Air was Nina Nastasia singing from a creaky, dilapidated barn -- then Run to Ruin takes place in the smoldering cinders of that same barn after its torching by a spurned lover. Such a dramatic shift in song writing can be likened to Dean Wareham’s Romantica transfiguration from bleary-eyed cynic to a maudlin infatuator. I don’t know what instigated Nastasia’s metamorphosis, but just last album she was singing “My body’s young and here to please him / I serve him right / I go with him” and “I can see the stars above / I can give it all up / Up to you / All for you! / All for you!” but now she moans “All the love / I have left / You won’t know / You won’t know” under a funeral-like arrangement complete with haunting accordion and pounding drums.


At an ephemeral thirty minutes long, fifteen shorter than The Blackened Air, Run to Ruin -- Nastasia’s junior album, second for Touch and Go, and third with Steve Albini at the boards -- is her most focused yet. Vocally, Nastasia is most evocative of Neko Case or Mirah. She is softer spoken than Neko, as well as more reliant on the emphasis of words than vocal strength, and has more of a country-esque modulation than Mirah. Instrumentally, Run to Ruin is heavily influenced by the dark, dusty deserts, Mexican barrios, and all-night truck stops: think Gillian Welch singing for a countrified Dirty Three.On The Blackened Air, Nastasia focused on short bursts of songs (rarely over two minutes long) representing ideas such as forgetfulness, devotion or voyeurism. On Run to Ruin she expands on the longer tracks from The Blackened Air, (“Ocean,” “That’s All There Is”) and delves into the depths of storytelling. “I Say That I Will Go” is told through the eyes of a protagonist who must cross a dirty southwestern town to bail out an unnamed friend. “Regrets” puts a down-and-out dame in a decrepit $35 dollar a night hotel where she can “hear the Spanish screams of girlfriends in the other rooms” who, she reassures herself, are not like her. She hears the women in the other room saying “Make no regrets,” but she does so anyway as she prostitutes herself, and becomes just like those in the rooms beside her.


“The Body” puts an abusive spin on fidelity (“My blood for you / My lover’s bruise / My clothes are scattered / My skull is fractured”) with Nastasia singing in a plaintive falsetto which fades out midway and is replaced with a Tosca Tango Orchestra meets bluegrass instrumental romp closer. “On Teasing,” similarly builds into a thick wall of instrumentation of cello, accordion, and dulcimer after Nastasia sings of a young girl being swallowed whole by the ornery sea.


If there is one central motif to Run to Ruin, it is that elusive and crucial relationship killer: communication. On the straightforward “Superstar,” Nastasia sighs “I know what you said” in a matter-of-fact, assuming tone. Going on, she declares/consoles herself by telling no one but herself, that she’s a Superstar -- “Not ordinary.” “Stay in the conversation” she tells her infatuation as she tries to ignore her competitor in the backseat who she hopes is not listening (“Maybe she’s not listening to us / The thoughts in her hands are distracting enough”). The more obvious “We Never Talked” has Nastasia lamenting a lack of communication: “We never talked / About the thing / We witnessed / ... / Our conversations stayed same / From year to year” On the final number, “While We Talk,” Nastasia seems to get closure from simply watching her lover eat a slice of cake.


Nastasia’s pen has sharpened greatly since The Blackened Air. No more does she scratch out mental images and feelings into terse songs, but builds upon those images and experiences -- placing the listener in her worn, ragged shoes -- instead of in our Gucci’s, 20 feet away, behind a chained link fence.