Newfoundland’s poetess extraordinaire, mental health advocate and feminist Amelia Curran’s music is distinguished by beautifully-crafted, intricate and elliptical lyrics, geologic in their resilience and oceanic in their depths. Over the course of a decade, Curran has built a shoreline of song, a place of radical, perpetual collision of matter and form. Even as she leads us to the ever-eroding lip of the abyss, Curran’s music helps us make sense of the heart’s imperceptible, relentless attrition. On Watershed, Curran’s new and eighth full-length album, her trademark-sharp lyrics relay experiences of misogyny, frustration, internet bullies, depression. Self-described as brazen, it’s a lyrical work that is open (not to be confused with optimistic), achingly, necessarily human and often tender.