You are using an outdated browser. Please upgrade your browser to improve your experience.
a devout hymn from the depths of a mercurial time-stained sanctuary, raised out of poisonous beliefs through a volatile portal, viscerally transforming narcotic shadows into salt. the nectar of this earthbound course - seeds scattered, charred & luminous.
inclined to write is an am i do. inventious of arbitrary lyrics and syntax i conjugate freely i ritually cannibalize thought. my verbs delicious bits of brain rich viscera of intuitive intention sung, spit, grumbled or lovingly hummed i love tasting them as they come tumbling over my tongue in labial palatial participles tickling my teeth
There is an elemental immediacy, a visceral intensity invoked and conjured in the explicitly wrought lyrics that are the hallmark of LOKEY's "powerful original songs." (Washington Post)
Her subject matter is drawn from the observations of a lifetime crossing continents. LOKEY's expeditions have brought her from her birthplace in Mercedes, Texas to stays in the Haight Ashbury district, Mexico, Washington, D.C., and Morocco to her current home in the "Soul of the Southwest",Taos, New Mexico.
Nurtured by coffeehouse busking and poetry slams, seeds of wisdom from North African tribes to America's trailer parks became the roots of LOKEY's global perspective that took hold and continue to flourish in the richly fertile ground of our collective experience.
Her "rapid-fire imagery" is compared to Bob Dylan. (Dave Luhrssen, Shepherd Express) A courageous social conscience blends with wry sentience for "lyrics as tough and smart as you'll find…by John Hiatt” (Scott Woolridge, City Edition) Other lyric comparisons include the punk-poetry of Patti Smith and Chrissie Hynde (Seth Rogevoy, the Beat) and the convinced insistence of Ani diFranco. ”LOKEY daubs bare bone with muscle and blood." (Tom Laskin, Isthmus)
LOKEY's writing style crosses many hemispheres, dynamically weaving neuro-linguistic threads of paradox to "lull, charm and catapult listeners" (the Onion). One song may peel away a layer of skin, leave you raw, vulnerable, even defensive, but there will always be a salve. The next song will share a knowing wink and easy-going shrug about what enlightened little savages - or brutal demi-gods - we really are.