Arrica Rose, The Tone Bank (Poprock,
2002)
Lynny, Drive (Dexterous Enterprises, 2002)
Garrett Sawyer, Anthem (Self-released, 2001)
Erika Luckett, My Little Crime (Birdfish, 2001)
Each of these artists is a singer-songwriter at the beginning of their career. Three of them make mistakes that are common to amateurs, to new professionals, to beginners of all stripes. They imitate, or they go too far into the wild in a desperate hope that they can avoid imitating. They fumble. Sometimes they outright flop.
And yet...
These flaws are not damning. Too many people take early career mistakes to heart. The truth is, I've seen a lot of beginning artists in a lot of mediums, and they all make these same mistakes. I've made a few of those mistakes myself! The trick is to tell when the error is the kind artists make while still finding their voice, rather than the kind of thing they will still be doggedly pursuing in 20 years. And once sure, the next thing to do is listen to what's going on around the problems and whether that good stuff is good enough to be worth following in 10 years
For instance, my first impression of the three song EP The Tone Bank was that it was a direct rip-off of Choirgirl Hotel era Tori Amos, only with a guitar and an alto voice (rather than a piano and little-girl soprano) buried in the grumbling soundscape. There was the same filtered-through-a-megaphone effect on the voice, and even the same trail-off on the first song.
Then, naturally, I started listening more closely.
Arrica Rose is an earthy, direct kind of performer. There are no guest musicians on this album. All keyboards and guitar, as well as the vocals, are Arrica's own. However much I may fault their application, there's skill to burn here. Her melodies are compelling, and done differently the parts would merge smoothly. The choruses do repeat too often in all three songs, and she does harp on the themes of finding herself and discovering the path less travelled -- themes explored by every relatively new artist -- yet there's richness here, and originality.
But this EP was plainly also meant as an experiment in different instrumentation, a theory confirmed by a quick visit to the bio on her Web site. The synthesizer's harmonic lines are used to good effect, and the whole rhythm is derived from the guitar, rather than more standard bass-and-drum mixtures. I like the grinding hardness of it, and the rock feel. However, the soundscape effects are overwhelming, and the distant fuzziness of the vocals hurts a strong and lovely voice. It is the effects and not the songs that remind me too much of the weaker parts of Choirgirl Hotel, and for all they seemed like a new direction for Arrica, they ended up being the parts that almost made me dismiss her before really listening to what was underneath. Most of all, the choice of instrumentation and background occasionally undercuts the unity of the song, changing too sharply between chorus and bridge.
I would not call this artist fully developed, but the EP rises above its flaws to a level well above merely listenable, and I expect she may yet rise to greatness.
Lynny didn't win me over nearly so much. Where a close listening to Arrica Rose told me the surface trappings were the only imitative part, and the core was solid, I never quite got that impression from Lynny. Still, I gave her a fair trial, in case the surface trappings were fooling me again into hearing blind imitation when there was more going on. This seemed unlikely simply because Lynny didn't sound like one person. Here, in "Best" is a perfect soprano-and-piano imitation of early Tori Amos; there, in "Boots", a bar jazz piece, with whiskey vocals, saxophone and brushed drums. A later track, "Drive Your Own Bus", with its shouted vocals, crashed into musical groups like the Cranberries. There are hints of Alanis Morrissette, but also the sexy vocals and gospel sound of "Jello", which jumps right into the rock piece "Had to Run".
Lynny is a chameleon. Sweet, screaming, seductive jazzy, slightly shaky poetry reader -- superb vocalist, occasional pianist, guitarist -- I can't think of anyone else who struck me as sounding like so many different other people in so little time. The problem is, most of the songs do not sound individual, but utterly imitative. The jazz piece did not stand out from any other jazz piece, the Tori Amos copies were middle of the road Tori. There are a few tracks that seem a little less derivative -- but even then, the question in the back of my head was whether that was really her own touch, or whether I simply hadn't heard the artist she was imitating.
How can you tell from such a chameleon-like album whether you actually like the performer herself? She's immensely talented, and few people could carry off so many different styles, much less have the album sound even halfway like a unified project, which this album does -- the halfway as well as the unified. I liked the majority of the songs, though I wish I could simply delete "On Me", an artsy spoken-word poem. Lynny isn't as skilled at reading as she is at singing. "Ripe" was too quiet, too slow, a bit dull; unfortunate, as the words have the ring of real grief. "So Fine" sticks in my head more than the others, and even though I find it a little piecemeal because the chorus is too different musically from the verses perhaps because it's one of the songs that doesn't immediately remind me of someone else's work. Of course, I dislike "Wings", which is another less derivative track -- but then, throughout that chorus, Lynny does the deliberate vocal crack between notes that seems to be a popular musical styling, but which always reminds me mostly of a cross between a teen boy and a hiccup.
It seems like an obvious question -- should I even criticise her for having such a wide variety of musical styles? Well, no. Artists should try many and varied things. But still one should be able to point to a track and say, "That's by Lynny." Even a group like Boiled in Lead, whose entire career is built on variety, still have a vivid personal stamp. Overall, I think the music on Drive is objectively better and more polished than that on Arrica Rose's EP. However, I am less convinced that Lynny's future work will hold my interest than I am that Arrica has shown me a glimpse of something to come.
Both of the above start with derivative sources, but seem to be reaching for something more individual. Garrett Sawyer, by contrast, sounds like absolutely nobody else -- and this may well be a bigger flaw still. The songs on Anthem sometimes scan, and sometimes rhyme, but both the manner the lyrics are written and the manner in which they are played suggests prose, with the poetic form imposed as a grudging concession to the majority.
There have been artists, though few in English, whose work has depended on forms other than rhyme. However, the majority of those depend on rhythm and alliteration; Garrett Sawyer, when not rhyming, tends more towards a kind of sung paragraph. Some of these lyrics are rich passages in their own right, such as this opening to "Clock Shadows;" A little piece of the randomness of the universe wandered in. It whispered tears that burned like acid rain upon my skin, jump-kicked my hands in motion and took me and all my reasons out to sea. Unfortunately, other paragraphs ramble, leaving one wondering at the end of the song what it was about, or why he would depend so much on such strange metaphors. Still, taken alone, the lyrics might be one of the strong points of the album.
Alas, they cannot be taken alone, and many times they clash badly with the attempt to put them to music; in some cases, such as the song "Unresolved", they clash even with the particular melody chosen for them, which demands breaks where the lines do not pause, and skips the breaks that come naturally. The melodies tend towards a sameness, and a narrow range of notes and tempos.
Garrett's nasal voice is usually too level; even when pitch or volume rise or fall, it seems to be all or mostly for the mechanics of music, rather than the sincerity of performance. There's one feeling almost throughout the album, a sort of acrid world-weariness that has as little emotional impact after a couple of songs as true monotony. Several songs try to replace this emotion with musical pyrotechnics -- programmed climactic themes that are meant to sound like swelling horn sections, but mostly come off as strident filler, and again, sound much alike song to song. The guitar lines, both acoustic and electric, are stronger than most of the rest of the accompaniment.
The one highlight of this album is the one time he sounds legitimately emotional; the pure religious fury of "I'd Rather Be Cain". This is the one place where the blaring background, the guitar, the music and the words all come together to pack a fierce punch. Even here, some of the horn-like squeals and near-harmonica sounds get excessive. "Black Fire" comes close enough to the same anger to hint that this need not have been a one-trick pony. The slower "Lean Season" is an attempt at another feeling entirely, the verses wistful evocations of scenes, the chorus somewhere between the perennial anger of the rest of the album, and a little regret. It's not wholly successful, in part because the pianoesque pieces, and the rather charming guitar line, are again interrupted by the horn-like swellings.
My final impression is that Garrett Sawyer discovered a style that nobody else was using, and decided to try it out, convinced that previously unused meant the same as individual. Unfortunately for him, I would say the style he chose is unused because it does not work. He sounds unusual, but weak, impersonal, wandering, bitter without the real acid and vinegar that will make people stand up and take notice. If he focussed on his strengths in lyrics and guitar, and devoted less time to trying to sound unique, he could yet come up with something that is truly his own.
Erika (Apparantly pronounced Eddi-kah) Luckett is still a relative newcomer, but a quick glance at her Web site shows two solo albums other than My Little Crime, three with the group Wild Mango, and several other credits besides. Her album may not be for everyone, being heavy on jazz influences, but it is not a diamond in the rough, rather an accomplished artist secure in her medium.
So what does she have in common with these previous musicians?
The first time I heard the album I thought back to Lynny. At first this was for surface comparisons -- Lynny's most jazzy piece would fit on this album, and both women have a spoken-word segment in the middle, themes of the search for individuality, and modern womanhood, with no little hint of sensuality. More, though, it highlighted Lynny's strong talent in choosing and blending instruments, and the matching weakness in Garrett Sawyer and Arrica Rose's experimentation. Lynny's chameleon-like nature came to the fore when I listened to the two in rapid succession: Erika struck me as stronger, less derivative, and gave me cause to analyse why.
Erika has a sure touch for mixing styles. The prevailing current is mellow jazz and modern female singer-songwriter. Yet there is also a hint of Latin sounds, a bit of lounge, a touch of blues, but where Lynny changes from song to song, Erika blends these influences into a new whole that is very much her own. In the music, there is the feeling of revisiting comfortable old friends with new stories to tell in a new setting, not of returning to find them in the same old house telling the same worn yarns. So, too, the spoken-word segment fits the album better; partly for the Latin beat in the background, partly for a smoother reading, but mostly because it links up with the song to follow, being a translation of the Spanish lyrics. There's a deft touch here with the music, and with the supporting instruments -- no one background sound is overworked through the album, and several odd combinations are tried; Caribbean steel drums anyone? Well, in "Postcard From Graceland," arguably the best track on the album, they fit right in. There's experimentation here, but it's the kind of experimentation done when someone has mastered all the basics of their art, and wants to refine, and keep themselves fresh.
Best of all, Erika plays to her own strengths. Where Garrett Sawyer drowns his strengths in his effort to mend his weaknesses, Erika highlights her voice, and the multiple influences on her music, and her biggest weakness -- the occasional lapse into wishy-washy mellowness -- is so appropriate for her chosen musical style that it blends in except on the rare track, like "Room 213," where she tries to be forceful.
Yet I find that she does connect to the other musicians, for her deft touch highlights their current flaws. Because, simply put, she's where they will be in a few years. It's easy to imagine Arrica Rose, though a much harder and rockier musician, sounding as deft on her instruments; it's possible to imagine Lynny sounding as personal, blending all her stylings into something unique. It's possible to imagine Garrett building on his strengths in the same manner. Indeed, with the possible exception of his nasal voice, the flaws on each of the first three albums are beginner flaws, temporary, the kind of trials and possible failures an artist very nearly has to make to properly learn their art. Their current efforts are not their best, and in some cases make for hard listening, but these are not permanent flaws. They are growing pains, and there's a promise, if you look for it, that bodes better for the future.
You can find Arrica Rose's Web site here,
and Erika Luckett's here.
More information on Garrett Sawyer can be found here
(Lynny's Web site is under construction, but will be here.
