Listening to Sing, Abra Moore's Pop/Contemporary Folk debut on
Bohemia Beat, you quickly grow to appreciate the parallel universe status
of any biography with her as the subject. Whatever might be said here, Abra
has given us plentiful hints already, and with a delightfully abundant intimacy.
It is the personal meander of Abra's approach, coupled with her way of tossing
us between Rickie Lee-like detail and Brickell-ish abstraction, that makes
us want to know more. Sing strikes us as an exquisite puzzle, with
many pieces instantly finding their way into our hearts, others teasing
us with their mysteries. The dazzling rewards keep "Sing" fixed
right there on our table, painted by a voice so thrilling, and wrapped in
music so vital and catchy, that we are compelled to whistle while we work.
Abra tells us, "They're just simple songs I had been collecting over
the years in my little bag of tunes... all real diary type stuff, just experiences,
framed in my simple craft, just trying to pull the essence of one thing
or another." One of the satisfactions of Sing is in our eventual
conclusion that neither her songs nor her craft are simple at all, but only
seemingly so. The listener, however, will not be surprised to learn that
simplicity does define the approach she takes to her work. "The
main thing for me is living clean and pure, keeping my channels clear,"
she says. "That's the only way to be prepared to express what comes
in. If you're blocked up, it just won't come out. If my life is good, I
can capture it and put it out later." In every moment of Sing,
we hear the bounties of this fragile interlace of life and art.
The listener also senses right from the syncopated "tickety-tocks"
of the album's magnificent first song, "Sweet
Chariot" that Ms. Moore has a different and delightfully uninhibited
way of distilling essences.
"Mitch 
(Watkins; her producer and jazz guitarman, in spades, extraordinaire) said
one time that I was like a wild horse and needed a bit of taming. It's true,
I guess. I don't like to think too much about songs. It's easy for that
to get in the way, but there's a balance to be found and I'm learning."
As the breeze whips through the reins she willingly accepts, and as she
gives us the churning "Half-Step and a Tumble," or the bitter
"Prayer For An Angel," we can't help but think she's learned pretty
darn well already. Ultimately, in that incredibly delicate musical moment
during "Some Kind Of Change," where she swoons...
Sometimes the wind brushes me back
Sometimes I feel faint
Sometimes I just don't know
...we know we have been overtaken by something very much like mastery.
Abra Moore has been surrounded by, and surrounded herself with, artists
since the very beginning. She was born in 1969 in San Diego and raised in
Puna, Hawaii.
Her father is a painter and sculptor, and her mother a "devoted
art lover and total jazz-head, who was always inviting players over to our
house to jam." Her brother is active today as a jazz horn player. Abra
lost her natural mother at age four (Sing is dedicated to her mother,
Elizabeth Ann, and the title song, as wrenching as it is beautiful, was
written 
on a recent Mother's Day). Abra's stepmother is also
an artist, who played the Beatles and Stones around the house while Abra
watched her painting.
Abra has been singing since she could speak, and not surprisingly, "had
a jazz thing going for a while," singing tunes by household favorites
like Billie Holiday and Nancy Wilson. Earlier, she had learned to play the
guitar to the music of Bob Dylan and Joni Mitchell, and though the sensibilities
of jazz can still be felt in her music, it was the role of singer/songwriter
which continued to beckon.
Her development as an artist continued with her formative role in a band
that came to define the word eclectic, that band being 
. When she was
nineteen, Abra, her good friend Frank Orrall, and two other founding members
cooked-up the group in response to the dual impulses of bursting creativity
and let's go wanderlust. "We were all college kids in Hawaii who wanted
to travel and make music, so we took a break from school, bought a one-way
ticket to L.A., and rented a truck. We'd set up on campuses all over the
country, and, wherever we went, we'd start trying to create a scene that
would bring people together." With their travels, and with the odds
against it, a legendary scene did begin to blossom. Anyone who made it wears
a lucky badge. But it was crazy as well and to keep it going required an
often-changing cast of musicians, giving rise to an ever-changing answer
to the question, 'Who's in the band?" The answer, though never definitive,
always included Ms. Moore.
Not much later someone at Columbia Records figured out that lots of folks
were primed to dig the scene Poi Dog was making. The first album was recorded
in Austin, Texas, a place that Abra & crew remembered fondly from early
Poi Dog travels. "We woke up on this beautiful campus in Texas, made
our way over to the drag (Guadalupe, the teeming main street serving U.T.),
and everything went just right. The people were so great, and we knew this
was our kind of place." By the time she was 23, Abra had made Austin
her home. It was there she came to part ways with the band, figuring it
was time to do something on her own.
Her next stop was Europe, where she started performing on the streets of
Paris, and quickly cultivated a dedicated following. More adventures overseas,
and four years ago she made her way back to Austin, where she has now made
her home (and has a well-behaved little white doggie, rescued from the pound,
to prove it!). Abra will forever be a "floating member" of Poi
Dog Pondering (the riveting "Step Without Looking," which serves
as Sing's benediction, is from Mr. Orrall and taken from a tape of
unreleased songs he once gave to Abra for consideration), and she recently
reunited with the group for three packed nights at Chicago's famous Vick
Theatre, and opened for them on their late '95 U.S. tour. But for now Abra's
immediate, and well-justified, focus is on her own career.... carrying with
her forever a credit on the Poi Dog collection for (accordion, chanteuse,
hula tita).....
With this goal in mind, Abra has assembled a band comprised of some of Austin's
finest musicians, featuring Mitch
Watkins 
playing mind-boggling guitar, coupled with the highly
coveted rhythm section of Chris Searles on drums and percussion, and Chris
Maresh on bass. And never absent, and ever-magical, is her trusted foil
on harmonica, J.P. Allen.
Seeing Abra sing in front of this group, with her ever-increasing intensity
and abandon, is like watching someone fall in love with the art of performance
a bit more each night.
Abra Moore's Sing more than merits her new focus, and as we continue
to eavesdrop on the very special places to which it delivers us, it's clearly
evident that her career will surely be long and full of spotlights. She
calls this record "a hopefully graceful baby-step," and we find
ourselves eager to stumble along. We know she's not bluffing there in "Throw
A Penny", when she sings...
And I'll push you deeper
than you've ever been
pushed before.
We pull ourselves back to land, and thank her for the dunk.
Mark Shumate
~ from the Sing
press kit
Note: As you may have noticed in the News section, since this was written,
Abra has attracted the attention of the Austin branch of monster major label,
Arista. Sing seems to have been a pretty worthy baby-step! Abra's
new record on Arista will be out May '97, and around here, we can't wait
to see what happens. May millions join the show......
Abra News
Abra Live
Sing on Bohemia Beat
Abra Home
Austin Chronicle feature by Joe Mitchell
Abra on the Regis /Kathy Lee show
2/98
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