“Christian howls like a werewolf with a voice made of molasses”
—Variety Magazine

“Singer-songwriter Heather Christian has a haunting way with lyrics, an unforgettable voice that somehow bridges Carol Channing and Joanna Newsom and a wise-waif presence that intrigues….an ambitious performer.”
—TimeOut NY

“Heather Christian’s soundtrack is so strong it forms an unbreakable backbone for the rest of it to hang off. Ballsy, bluesy, sexy and morally ambivalent, she is also Miss Atomic Christian, the ringmaster of this circus. She invokes spirits and taunts them, cradles humans and then laughs at them.”
—Musical Theater Review, London

“some of the most seductive original songs I’ve heard in a long time”
—The Standard

“beautifully written and spirited endeavor, HC & The A’s debut is the rare anytime album that pierces through whatever ambient noise you have knocking about and pulls you into its own rapt narrative. The musical ground covered is vast and the shifts seamless. Shifts that sometimes happen within the same song. Album-opener “New Things” takes us from dreamy piano pop into 70’s glamgroove territory within a minute and twenty seconds and then returns us safely to the clouds. “Bounder” has a hushed intensity that blooms midway through into a gritty, slide-blues tiger lily, the kind of goosey, bend-and-soar gospel rave-up that causes involuntary sistahgurl neck rolls while riding the subway. “Jet Thrust & Blushes” is a gauzy, ethereal somnambulation, while “Centuries, Centuries” is a straight-up, top-down, Southern butt-shaker. And then there’s “Harvey”. A cinematic soul-stirrer whose crescendo peels the paint off my walls every time. Cabinet is not only a solid debut, it’s just a plain great record.”
—Couldyoupleasejustnot Music Blog

“With her amazing band The Arbornauts in tow, Christian’s freewheeling live shows have been mesmerizing displays of quirky humor and goosebump-enducing dramatic brilliance”
— Directcurrent.com

“Heather Christian is something else. Her contributions to her band’s songs are extraordinary and more than just the typical parts given by regular lead singers — mortal lead singers. All of her words live in a way that can only be comparable to the belting and earnest howls of Jefferson Airplane’s Grace Slick, as well as a sultry jazz singer trying to sing like the finest chardonnay and the most expensive cigars in the place. It’s a combination of elements and palettes that is intoxicating and wonderfully unpredictable, with one moment feeling like spending time in a posh supper club, surrounded by millionaires and their spouses in expensive suits, ties, dresses and shoes, out on a Friday night with other millionaires and their spouses, spending hundreds of dollars on food and drink, and the next minute, there’s a mash of strange bits that you might find on both Joanna Newsom’s “The Milk-Eyed Mender” and Metallica’s “Ride The Lightning.” We hear her squinting out words and then making them into daggers, as if she’s handing you little pieces of electric fencing, with you having no prior knowledge of what you may be taking into your clutches. It zings you and flips you and bugs your eyes out – your eyebrows and knuckle hair singe and it’s all because you could look over at Christian and she’d have smoke coming from her ears, her throat lit up redder than a white-hot chunk of coal.”