... blending the skill of songwriters such as Joni Mitchell and Neal Young with a love of soulful pop.”

— Time Out London

I first met Elizabeth McCullough a/k/a Alpha Cat about six months ago at the Guitar Bar in Hoboken, New Jersey, and right away there was trouble. She was strumming a sunny little number called Black Hole and when someone told her I played drums, she rolled her eyes and honey-venomed "oh....one of them." Nice to meet you, too. The trouble is that I am irresistibly drawn to chronic cranks with invariably disastrous psychic-romantic-economic-everythingic results, and if they also suffer from Music Sickness and can pack their hurts, hopes and terrors into powerful songs, then I'm really a goner. And Elizabeth does this kind of work quite well. I'd taken her "Real Boy" EP that day, and kept going back to it's funny, intense and surprisingly beautiful "How the fuck do you steer this thing called Life?" songs. "Ground Rush" stayed with me, which I later learned was about sky-diving doubling (tripling? infintupling?) as a metaphor for transformations we are hurtling towards and powerless to resist. Fast-forward five months and I'm having a Big Night Out in London. First stop is the Shepherd's Bush Empire to watch fellow Hobokenites Yo La Tengo mutate from shy neighbors into full-blown stars, then on to a Soho club to see a set by this friend of the obnoxious Yank I'm with. ...which of course turns out to be Madame Must-To-Avoid. The 12 Bar Club is an odd place to play-the audience is either looking up into the performer's crotch or down on their pate, while the musician pours his or her heart out to a 17th century wooden beam. But she has the nice little crowd's rapt attention and her smoky voice sounds strong and confident. Most of the set comes from a new full-length CD called "Pearl Harbor" and it's all going very well. Samy Bishai has joined on violin (that same day, as it turned out), plus there's an ernest back-up vocalist introduced only as Derek who Sonnys (sunny?) for Elizabeth's cloudy Cher. After her show (split, man!), we drink too much, pick-up some fellow strays and hit all the after hours places that will take us in (what the fuck are you doing?). The evening ends (run, you idiot!) when the sun pulls the plug. "Ground Rush"? - Chris Butler” - Chris Butler

— Get Rhythm (UK