Of the few Dana Sipos songs I've listened to, "Portraits," the single off her upcoming third album Roll Up the Night Sky, is the one that probably feels the most haunting.
Initially, it didn't register that way. But after reading Sipos' comments describing the track as being "that slightly unsettled feeling you get walking through an old house and all the portraits are watching you," there was suddenly a noticeable unease to the mandolin arpeggio and the murmuring bass that I didn't catch from the first few listens. Then there are the backing vocals which moan, like some form of apparition, with a ghostly melancholy that carries an eerie timbre of its own as it lurks behind Sipos' voice.
There's very little else that goes on musically aside from the guitar strums and violin strings that lift the tune for a slight crescendo in the bridge. But the stripped-back arrangement is all "Portraits" really needs. Its minimalism conveys a bareness that audibly reflects the discomfort Sipos sings about in her lyrics: feeling vulnerable when you're fully exposed.