A Chanteuse-Tinged Folk Unravelling Steeped in Pain, Volition and Era-Shifting Alchemy –

Banipreet opens Bit More Than I Could Chew by tipping Americana Folk into a cauldron of chanteuse-esque soaring vocals that chameleonically flirt with artful histrionics, 60s pop harmonies, contemporary indie confessionalism and cabaret magnetism.

It is a swirl of eras and emotions delivered with such natural ease that you barely notice how many stylistic worlds she threads through in a single breath. The angst, pain and soulful fortitude running through her lyricism set the tone early, and as the layers unfold, she triumphs with a release that feels almost Oscar-worthy in how she slips between tonal modes to perform each line with full-bodied conviction. You taste the alchemy. You feel the weight of what she bit off. You hear the way she spits it back out as something melodic, tender and bruisingly self-aware.

The independent singer-songwriter’s distinction is not only in the sound she conjures but in the instinctive way she channels lived experience into performance. Raised between hymns at her local Sikh temple, Bollywood, Punjabi folk and the Western songwriting traditions she later sought out for herself, her voice carries a lifetime of musical crossings.

After drifting through chapters as varied as flight attendant work, floristry study, henna artistry, van life and caregiving, she stepped away from music entirely until heartbreak sharpened her need to write. Those songs became her lifeline, pulling together threads of folk, pop and acoustic introspection with a rawness she refuses to mute. Now based in New York, and with a debut album on the horizon, Bit More Than I Could Chew feels like a pivotal moment where all the fragments of her life finally converge into a sound that is fiercely her own.

Bit More Than I Could Chew is now available on all major streaming platforms, including Spotify. 

Review by Amelia Vandergast