The second effort released by Faith Boblett. This time it didn't take three years, it took three weeks. Teamed up with high school classmates and dear friends - Jordan Morantez and Kevin Goff - and producer Knol Tate, this EP had a whole different outlook and feel than Faith's debut (Oil & Water, 2013). Songs about some deep sh*t, really deep: staying with someone you don't want to be with, addiction, god, cancer, and leaving home. Listen to it! Take what you need from it. Music and lyrics by Faith Boblett Produced, engineered, and mixed by Knol Tate Mastered by David Gardner Physical copies manufactured at COPYCATS Media. Album artwork by Kendra Watlov Boblett with Faith Boblett Letoile Magazine, review by Jon Hunt: "...the tunes on her forthcoming EP Tell Me have not the remotest hint of nascency. Whether due to the influence of über-producer Knol Tate or just a healthy amount of growth and maturity (guess: a little bit of both), two years have made a world of difference. These songs are fully-formed, totally grown-up, beautifully written. They possess a melodic strength that older songwriters would kill for, plus a lyrical deftness that speaks of careful time spent honing a gift. They’re also chockful of heartbreak, I’m sorry to say (sorry for her, not for you, the listener) and it’s amazing how much some pain and angst can color slightly-country-tinged pop songs, adding a grit and honesty that propels them into “amazing” territory. F**k, you know, breakups, right? I’m thinking of albums like Ryan Adams’ Cardinology or — hell, I’m just gonna say it — Taylor Swift’s Red, which stir anger, righteous indignation and sadness into a potent, energetic rock and roll stew that makes for compelling listening. We love listening to people rail against the darkness, and that’s what’s happening here. Result: a super-enjoyable and wonderfully challenging listen, with a couple songs that are so good that you think “god, if this album doesn’t make her a star, I don’t know what’s wrong with radio anymore.” My favorite: “Have Mercy,” which has a huge, magnificent, gorgeous hook that she sli-i-i-i-i-ides perfectly into and tons of nifty arrangement touches that should make a smart radio programmer stand up and take notice (dammit, take notice, okay?). And, god, do I like the super-subtle “Numbers,” which has a staggeringly great melody paired with some keen guitar playing and a nicely restrained and almost — intriguingly — disco bass vibe. And opener “I Don’t Like You” has a killer lyric that — well, we’ve all been there, right? Dating someone we know is fucking terrible for us and we stay anyway? And how angry does that make you? About this angry, I guess, and this bitter and this, erm, rock and roll, which is fueled by such things. Last time around I had a couple disclaimers — there were a couple songs on her album I thought sounded a little forced or a little immature. Not so this time. Five songs is short, sure, but there isn’t a single moment of chaff or even a misplaced word or melodic bit or awkward delivery on this little gem. I want Faith to become super god-damn big because it would convince me that there is still a place for strong pop songwriting in this world, and that it’s still possible to become super god-damn big on the strength of that and a killer voice, and that’s what this is all about, right? In the meantime, I’m certain that if you dig such things yourself (and why wouldn’t you?) you’ve gotta check this out. This is growth, folks, and it’s amazing to see."