Ever wish you could see what other peoples’ dreams look like? Cat Clyde’s clip for “All The Black” may make you reconsider that wish. Her vocals here — deep, throaty, with a softness just barely concealing a knife’s edge — speak of wreckage, the aftermath of slow-motion emotional upheaval. The minimal instrumentation, like a long-held breath, finally let out as the dust settles, echoes with solitude and isolation. While you see what’s in Cat Clyde’s head, you’ll really want to see what’s in her record collection. “This may be killing us, but at least it kills the pain. / If I could soak up all that black, I would soak up all the black,” she sings. Whoever’s supposed to be by her side things go sideways, at this point they’re just in the same room. The aesthetic here is a discomfiting marriage of the mundane and the macabre. Cat sits across from a dinner companion whose head is swallowed up entirely by the elegant décor – there’ll be no communication tonight – hell, there won’t even be eye contact. A human tree turns on more vulnerable plant life, literally mowing it down without a trace of emotion. An unlucky soul tends to the tresses of someone so toxic that a hazmat suit is required to avoid the poison. All is not well; all is ill. Cat is signed to independent company Cinematic Music Group. The Brooklyn-based label, management, publishing & touring company has seen what’s coming over and over and over again in their relatively short run. They’ve either broken or bumped up the profiles of artists like Caveman, Public Access TV, Joey Badass, and T-Pain. The Ivory Castanets LP has been blowing up on streaming platforms across the board since its 2017 release, with millions of collective streams and countless Spotify playlist adds. She’s been pushing her record nearly non-stop with North American tours supporting Paul Kelly and ZZ Ward, a sold-out tour in Europe with Shakey Graves, and her first headline run across her native Canada in late February / early March. Like the song, the video for “All The Black” defies being stuck in any place in time, save for one unsettling shot of grinning twins snapping selfies while a dehumanized Cat paws at a pile of dirt. Her very own blend of yesteryear blues, country, and jazz isn’t just making its mark; It's leaving a crater