Mike Bennett Reviews, March, 2004

Scroll down for reviews of the latest releases by Edson, Tim Reid and Franz Ferdinand.

Denise James
It's Not Enough To Love

(Rainbow Quartz)

parasol.com

Detroit singer Denise James combines a few different strains of ‘60s music to create a hauntingly winning brand of pop. James, working with producer Matthew Smith of Outrageous Cherry, writes songs in the girl group tradition. Basic simple R & B based pop. She's not a Ronnie Spector-esque powerhouse, but she has enough sweetness to conjure up a lot of fine British singers from the Swingin' London days.

The twist on this is that the songs are performed in jangly folk-rock settings. At times, the music touches on French pop from that era (which is a good place to note that James was born in France, and moved to the States while still a young ‘un), with even hints of the early Velvet Underground. Smith does not have the reverb setting as high as on his own Outrageous Cherry records, but there's still a bit of that echo chamber effect going on. His greatest contribution is an array of lead guitar figures that decorate every song.

If any song defines this album thematically, it would be the slow tempo shuffle of "Love Has Got Me Crying Again". This is typical of the downcast look at affairs of the heart. James, who wrote all of the songs on this disc, finds a song that is part mid-tempo Merseybeat jangle, part yearning girl singer pop. Moreover, her vocal is world weary, with just enough energy to really capture the truism that no matter how much love breaks your heart, one will suffer just hoping to taste it once again. The bridge on the song arcs like a fleeting ray of sunshine, only exacerbating the hurt.

In the same vein lyrically, "It's Not Enough to Love" is a pop dirge, with acoustic guitars, shuffling drums and an organ creating a grey atmosphere. James's phrasing is terse and economical, parsing out her plaintive observations. The sole color in the song comes from the lead guitar ornamentation. The song builds up to James's repeated refrain: "It's not enough/to be in love/I want to be/everything."

James shows off her femme fatale side on "Don't Let Her Go This Time". Or should I say, her "Femme Fatale" side. This number sounds somewhat like the Velvet Underground classic, slowed down just a little bit. If anything, "Don't Let Her Go..." reveals how deep some of Lou Reed's early rock and roll roots went, as this song certainly has that Velvet feel, but is rooted in an earlier tradition, and it sounds just right.

While much of this album is similar in tone to some of Frank Sinatra's classic work with Nelson Riddle (lonely and brooding), there are some happier numbers. "Come Home to Me" has James's most energetic vocal. The song is mid-tempo, but I could easily hear this being done with a faster Motown beat -- the melody and chorus would certainly be up to the task. The opening cut, "Hold on This Time", is also relatively jaunty. Note, however, that these are the first two songs on the album -- the rest of the album is pretty much Teardrop City.

With one exception. "Just Like That" is a six-minute instrumental that serves as the penultimate cut on this 10-track collection. This song is too long and misplaced on the disc. One more Velvet-y song ("Your Every Word"), and this album is over. I'm not sure where the track should have gone, but it's not in the right place.

Oh, one other problem with "Just Like That". James doesn't sing on it. While there may be other singers with a lot more range, James invests her lyrics with just the right touch. While this album may be downbeat, it's not a downer. Part of this may be due to some of the nifty chord changes that James tucks in unexpected places. This is a new angle on an old sound, and I like it very much.

Edson
Every Day, Every Second

(Labrador)

parasol.com

In soccer (or, if you prefer, real football), they call the game that the Brazilian team plays ‘the Beautiful Game.' Of all the artists who have worn the bright yellow jersey of Brazil, no one was more artistic than Pele. Edson hails from Sweden. They play beautiful music, with grace and passion. And Pele inspired their name -- Edson is Pele's real first name.

One thing about Pele's game was that it was spectacular (like his back-to-the-goal bicycle kicks), yet it was never overly flashy. He did things the way he did to get results, not to show off. Edson doesn't really have any musical equivalent of a bicycle kick. But, like Pele, they prefer elegant romanticism to bluster and self-indulgence.

The two defining elements of Edson's sound are the prominent piano (and other keyboard instruments) of Helena Soderman and the expressive tenor voice of Pelle Carlberg. Carlberg sings with what sometimes sounds like a perpetual cry in his voice. Poor old Johnny Ray, perhaps? Soderman sure sounds like she has a classical music background. This comes through on songs like "Underdog/Overdog" (which has a piano part that seems inspired by Chopin), the compelling opening track "And Then She Flung Me the Truth" and "A Pleasant Dream". "Dream" is an extremely dramatic track. The ominous verses are built on Soderman's choppy intense piano, which builds tension in a manner similar to the strings in "Eleanor Rigby".

This is contrasted by the chorus, which is a pithy ray of melodic sunshine. Meanwhile, the lyrics are false drama. While Carlberg doesn't want anyone to wake him up from his pleasant dream, the dream he describes in the verses is pretty mundane: "Went to the store to get some dinner/to my surprise, the clerk was kind of nice/and showed me to the rice." Intriguing.

The band shows an affinity for laid back soft-pop on the languid "Infrared Heating". This song is mellow and sunshiny, like The Cardigans on light sedatives (or more recent Cardigans, I suppose). While the slower tracks highlight the emotional qualities in Carlberg's voice, he also acquits himself well on the peppier, less pensive songs. "148020" is a jaunty stroll down memory lane. The gently strummed guitars and shuffling percussion are sweet as can be.

The band successfully goes for a less poppy, more organic feel on "I Won't Lie to You", which was cut live in the studio, with band members switching instruments. Drummer Torbjorn Nilsson plays a R & B-styled Wurlitzer organ, while guitarist Filip Carvell takes over on the drums. Carvell uncorks a crisp drum roll which leads into the final instrumental break, where Soderman plays a boogieing piano accompanied by Carlberg's folky harmonica. A nice change of pace.

The best song on the disc is "One Last Song About You Know What". The song has a very slight country-rock tint to it (think The Byrds or Poco), though the song is still basically a weepy piano pop song. This has a subtly majestic chorus that stamps itself in the brain very quickly. And the performances are spot on. The band is very controlled and Carlberg is extremely engaged. For all of the passion evident in their music, Carlberg avoids the temptation to oversing. He's intense enough when he's just staying at an even keel.

This is a wonderful group effort, as the songs are fine, but can only gain from the interplay between the musicians. It is yet another example of the abundance of talent in Sweden, and the abundance of heart.

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Tim Reid
Any Given Day

(Popboomerang)

popboomerang.com

Tim Reid is a singer-songwriter. This makes him one of thousands all over the world. However, what Tim Reid does with the basic tools -- a nice voice, simple yet lush compositions and direct, intelligent lyrics -- makes him one worthy of attention from thousands of music fans all over the world. From time to time, when listening to a record, particularly of a relatively new and unfamiliar artist, there is a moment, almost an epiphany, where you realize that there is something special going on, and that you don't just have a disc, you have music that will be a part of your life.

For example, I can still remember sitting in my dorm room, listening to Chris Isaak's debut record, awed by his stunning vocal on "The Lonely Ones". I was transfixed on that cold and rainy January day, and a bond was formed. Something similar happened to me when listening to the fourth song on the disc, the title cut. The song is one of many that will draw comparisons to Neil Finn, though the tight melody is quite McCartneyesque. It's actually a bit reminiscent of "Another Day", with all the cloying aspects of that song taken out. What's so amazing is how the refrain is taken from that melody, and the melody kind of doubles back on itself. Then the middle eight comes in, and it is Finn worthy. The lovely instrumental break after the second middle eight leads to a quieter reassertion of the melody and then the refrain goes into repeat mode, becoming blissful. This is a song that just keeps getting better and better until the end. So simple, so wonderfully devastating.

Devastated might describe the bloke who's the subject of "World That's Made for Two". This is a song about feeling trapped in a relationship. Reid's lyrics are precise and cutting: "you had big plans about this city you would build for her/they left when the bassinet and baby came between you/spending more time at the office seems the only thing to do." This song doesn't wallow in self-pity or offer an easy way out. It's blithely empathetic. And after detailing the problems, Reid let's the music do the talking, building up to a crescendo, where he tells the guy to "take a look around", with the song negotiating a path that is lovely but uncertain.

"Lily" is someone else who found that she may have given her heart away rashly. In this case, it was for the security of a rich man. She plays her piano, hoping that what she plays will allow her a form of escape. This is a mid-tempo tune, built on layers of acoustic guitars, piano (duh!) and light shuffling drumming. This is one of the songs on the album where Reid really defines himself as someone who is really building on his influences. It's, yet again, effortlessly melodic. But Reid isn't merely trying to be catchy, he's trying to create a mood, a mood that will provide the proper setting for his character. That he does so successfully, while managing to create something so memorable is a mark of a possible master in training.

Not every song is so downcast, but, like Finn, even the unhappier numbers still have a lift and a power to them. Reid's surface charms are obvious. Every song here is instantly likable. What really impresses me is how easily he understands how to match the words to the music to create mood and feeling. Listen to the album opener, "Two Left Feet", and you hear how the words meld with the rhythm of the song, the melody of the song, and compliment it, so that the words and music are inseparable. The other thing that comes through on every song is how he means it. There is no artifice here. He's not selling you his songs. Though by living and breathing them, he is, in fact, really selling the songs. Here is an artist who appears to have a brilliant future.

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Franz Ferdinand
Franz Ferdinand

(Domino)

dominorecordco.com

A stunning debut from a Scottish quartet who have an utter command of their sound and their songs. These are vibrant songs that are fueled by rhythms that are grounded in equal measures of the brittle post-punk funk of Gang Of Four and disco music. Not only are the songs littered with hooks that come from the riffs, the melodies, the catch phrases and instrumental figures, they support precise, intelligent lyrics that treat sexual politics as a personal version of the war on terror.

This a very sensual band – in particular, a band of voyeurs. So many lyrics about watching, gazing, looking: "She can return you the face/that you are staring from" they sing on "Jacqueline", the soon-to-be-requited lust in "Tell Her Tonight", with the man and woman checking each other out in detail, and on "Take Me Out", Alex Kapranos telling his unrequited that "I'm just a cross-hair/just a shot away from you." That's just the first three songs – plenty more leering, spying and observing on the other eight tracks.

Franz Ferdinand songs combine an inherent youthful urgency (they're still in their early twenties), a punkish violent edge, a decadence on par with Roxy Music and a smidgen of The Smiths's romanticism taken to the hilt. The sharp music manages to put the words at just the right scale. They manage to be serious, but with a bit of a wink. Lust and love take on so much importance. Still, there's always tomorrow.

Of course, tomorrow may suffer in comparison to poor bugger at the heart of the album's best track, "The Dark of the Matinee". Musically, the song has chicken scratch funk guitar, a pea-soup disco beat that Paul Thomson gives a martial edge to (U2 verged on this sound on a couple tracks on War), while the melody in the verses gives Kapranos a chance to show off a baritone croon. This is a college boy with a disturbing crush who wants a girl (or rather, the girl) to join him at the movies, where his fantasy factory holds full sway. Though his chance of pulling her is nil, he has it all mapped out in his head. He plans to bump into her and tell her "of the boys I hate/all the girls I hate/all the words I hate/all the clothes I hate/how I'll never be/anything I hate." He then dreams of finding fame, getting on Terry Wogan's show, where the words he can't say to the girl then suddenly become "easy." The chorus is anthemic, and is a statement of purpose, if delusion counts as a purpose.

A biting lead guitar part, sounding like a cross between the B-52s and a spy movie, moves into a bassy throb on "Michael". Throb is the operative word, as this tune is simply a lust poem to Michael, the "beautiful dance whore." This is the best man-wants-to-pick-up-another-man song since Pete Shelley's "Homosapien". In Shelley's tune, the lust is seen as a bridge to love in a world where such a romance would not be frowned upon (like in San Francisco, recently). Franz Ferdinand is more 21st Century – he just wants to fuck the guy. The chorus is a breathless rush, that leaves me with the impression that he's never actually going to tell Michael this.

Michael was probably dancing to "This Fire", which takes the storm the disco approach of the Electric Six to ass shaking extremes, while removing all the irony. After a minute or so of wind up, the band turns into a dance machine, Thomson and bass player Bob Hardy mixing the precision of Wire with the suppleness of Chic. This song is all about dynamics, the verses allowing each chanted chorus ("this fire is out of control/I'm going to burn this city/burn this city") to orgasmically burst. This is the rare song that I would love to hear someone make an extended mix version.

The single "Darts of Pleasure" reverses that structure. The verses are clangorous rock-funk, before grabbing a hold of a Blondie-esque melody to get through the chorus. And I mean a really good Blondie-esque melody. Here, Kapranos really shows the more delicate side of his voice, while Hardy's bass playing is a marvel, all rhythm, yet leading the melody up and down and wherever he pleases. Then the band ties these strands to together for a corker of a finish. These guys know what they're doing.

Franz Ferdinand have hit on some winning combinations. They write arty, challenging songs that happen to be fantastic pop. They identify strongly with how difficult it is to connect interpersonally, yet their songs have an intimacy that is often quite sexy. This may be the best debut record to come from the British Isles since the Stone Roses. Like that record, this has all the hallmarks of a classic.

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