Producers Joel Martin and Matt Edwards (a/k/a Radioslave, responsible for extending the shelflife of that goddamn Paul McCartney “Temporary Secretary” song via gauche re-edit) are Quiet Village, a mellow kinda pastiche act that’s stepping up with a full-length here after a handful of 12”s on sought-after boutique label and DJ Harvey affiliates Whatever We Want. Positioned on that roster, they cast a wide net over areas not covered by the cartoon-like Map of Africa, the schizophrenic singles output of Bobbie Marie, and the unapologetic edits of Otterman Empire; picturesque soundscapes of repurposed beats from subdued jazz/soul dusties, punched up with newly-recorded guitar leads, vocals, and other latter-day flourishes. And given the context of the one-track-per-side 12”, their music made sense as a tool.
Essentially, what’s going on in Silent Movie (!K7, 2008) is a game of three-card monte, a little sleight-of-hand that tacks complementary sounds on top of pre-existing big budget studio productions of the past. So you’ll hear what sounds ostensibly like a Delfonics record (opener “Victoria’s Secret”), or some retired Grover Washington, Jr. side (“Pacific Rhythm”), or some Joe Walsh jam crossed up with the Tangerine Dream score to “Risky Business” (”Pillow Talk”), but only enough of one to get the feeling of the source material. Sadly, you never get to the break or the message, and the Village’s coloring does nothing to remedy the situation. Their sources are impeccable, and as stylists both Martin and Edwards, and whoever else might have lent a hand to this lengthy, shallow collection, their suggestions are undeniably cool. But cool is all these guys have to work with, and the intended effect wears off midway through each track. It’s a real shame the bases that they build off of don’t change keys or take on any action, as their additions aren’t strong enough to stand up on their own. The title of the album is remarkably apt–these guys don’t want to attempt to dialogue with the listener, and their drowsy combination of nuance and light touches roll right off of one another. It’s like a downtempo house record stuck between two mirrors, unable to latch onto the smooth, reflective surfaces on either side.
A decade ago, DJ Shadow and David Holmes both proved that you can make hundreds of records tell a story. Five years ago, the Avalanches showed us that the story can also be a raging party. Silent Movie shows us how to recontextualize dinner music, and reminds us that it’s still suited for nothing more than background.
On her second record, singer/violinist Joan Wasser–aka Joan As Policewoman–combines a sleepy voice–one that sounds as if she just rolled out of bed after a long night on the town–with surprising intensity. While Wasser’s utterings barely rise above a sultry whisper, there’s a determined grace to her phrasing. That doesn’t make the New Yorker’s music easy to describe, though, since Wasser recalls such diverse dames as Scout Niblett, Joni Mitchell, and Phoebe Snow (especially on the vibrato-laden “Holiday”).
A spiritual disciple of Al Green and Nina Simone, Wasser has worked with everyone from Joseph Arthur to the Scissor Sisters, but To Survive (Reveal, 2008) qualifies more as a sophisticated soul-jazz mélange than indie-pop or dance-rock. As such, the musical polymath also calls to mind Lisa Germano, who similarly divides her time between performing achingly personal songs and playing violin with the Eels (whose drummer Ben Perowsky, along with The Johnsons bassist Rainy Orteca, complete the Police Woman line-up).
Despite Wasser’s affection for punk, that inspiration was felt more keenly on her 2006 debut, Real Life, than on this more polished effort. And while she sang with Antony Hegarty (of Antony and The Johnsons) on her first album, this time she and Rufus Wainwright trade verses on the heavenly “To America.” Since Joan suggests Rufus as an alto and Rufus suggests Joan as a tenor, their voices fit together so perfectly, it’s hard to tell where one begins and the other ends.
To Survive’s only problem lies with Wasser’s tendency to dance too close to the quiet storm edge. On stage, for instance, “Magpies” probably swings, but in its recorded iteration, horns and gospel backing vocals gum up the works. Wasser impresses most when her voice rises above the fray, even if her version of loud makes Julie London (see “Cry Me a River”) sound like a shouter. That said, it’s a minor flaw, and she deserves the same degree of exposure Cat Power and other smoky-voiced sirens have been enjoying in recent years–if not more.
Joan As Policewoman show dates:
June 20 Sala Heineken - Madrid, Spain
June 22 Cyprus Ave - Cork, Ireland
June 23 Tripod - Dublin, Ireland
June 24 Hard Rock Cafe - Warsaw, Poland
June 26 Malta Festival - Poznan, Malta
Video of British “soul” singer Amy Winehouse, under the influence and singing some juvenile ditty replete with racial epithets, surfaced over the weekend on the world wide web, courtesy of News Of the World. The video, recorded by her husband, Blake Fielder-Civil, shows Winehouse and a female friend in an apparent advanced state of inebriation starting to sing a song that begins with the word “Blacks.” The duo halt their saucy rendition and implore the husband-cameraman to assure them that he is not actually taping the scene. After they are satisfied that they are enjoying utter privacy, they go on to sing a verse and a half of some jingle that is consists mainly of a string of familiar racial slurs. Winehouse accompanies the shocking display with at least one hand gesture that involves her stretching the corner of one her eyes back while singing a word that is often construed as derisive toward Asians.
The troubled star Winehouse has since claimed that there was nothing racist about her or her behavior saying, “I’m the least racist person going.” Photos of Winehouse among an array of drug paraphernalia are also available with the NOTW story.
Tired of retro-inspired Amy Winehouse wannabes or lackluster Lily Allen clones? Then definitely don’t pick up latest British pop sensation Adele’s shaky debut 19 (Columbia, 2008). While it’s not a carbon copy of self-destructive soul goddess Winehouse’s outstanding Back to Black or the rasta-inspired flavor of Allen’s Alright Still, 19 does have “It” producer Mark Ronson’s throwback-loving sonic fingerprints all over it. Ronson, who’s responsible for Winehouse’s signature soulful swagger, is attempting to make Adele the Dusty Springfield of the new millennium–and has failed miserably.
Although this husky-voiced Brit post-teen has the sultry conviction of Springfield, 19 is composed of one watered-down track after another, very few of which make a lasting impression. “Chasing Pavements” has a Petula Clark-like easy-listening accessibility–you can easily picture this song being played in a Wal-Mart near you–and a cheesy cinematic quality thanks to the Ronson-ified strings-heavy chorus climax.
The album’s most palatable number, “Cold Shoulder,” employs a paired-down hip hop beat, teary-eyed lyrics about rejection and features Ronson’s polished retro-meets-urban aesthetic at its best. Although Adele’s vocal and songwriting talents go without saying, 19 is more lackluster lowfat Joss Stone than the voluptuous soul of Dusty Springfield’s “Son of a Preacher Man.”