Tristan Prettyman

Remember all those carefree, collegiate hours you whiled away at Dunn Bros. open-mic nights? No? Well, Tristan Prettyman does, and vividly. One is loath to compare the Bay Area songstress to such '90s poppers as Blues Traveler or the Wallflowers, but the tracks on her debut album, twentythree, have such a homey, inoffensive groove that it's hard to ignore how snugly that shoe fits. Prettyman's work is a familiar room—inviting and well lit, with a big ol' ratty couch that just begs a catnap. More strum than pluck, Prettyman traipses through her songs at a leisurely skip, addressing life's more normative plights as she goes. One can hear her take-it-as-it-comes half-smile as she croons. For those nights when Chan Marshall is just a little too jagged and roughly hewn, Tristan Prettyman fits like a suede tea cozy.
Thu., April 3, 7 p.m., 2008

 
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