Rachael Sage, Public Record (MPress Records, 2003)
Rachael Sage is a founding member of New York City music collective UrbanMuse, as well as Womanrock and Indiegrrl, and she's played at the Lilith Fair. It shows. On the cover of Public Record, she's wearing purple and yellow eye make-up, with yellow sequins lining her lower eyelids. It's not clownish, it's arty. Cool, even. And from the first word she sings, you can tell she's been influenced by Tori Amos, Sarah McLachlan and Suzanne Vega.
Public Record, her fifth album, is technically proficient. She describes herself as a pianist, and rightly. The songs on which she plays piano stand out, the intricate cascades of notes communicating confidence and skill. The mixing on the album (done by Andy Zulla) is well-balanced. The musical style here is a blend of folk-rock, blues and modern soulful alternative music. There are growly bluesy harmonies and moody synth in "What If," building to folk-rocky volume and speed in the choruses. I like the smoky, lonesome sax in "Back to Freedom," and the harmonica is a great touch in "Back in Time" and "Chasing the Girl."
Overall, however, my reaction to this album is mixed. When I initially put it on to get a first impression, I wandered away in the middle of the first song. Not a good sign. But there's really nothing wrong with it, either. So what's going on?
First of all, perhaps, is that Sage isn't just influenced by her fellow Lilith Fair artists, she sounds just like them. She mimics the Tori Amos/Alanis Morissette singing style perfectly. When this means moving fluidly from head to chest voice and from ethereal purity to a power blues growl, it's great. When it means distorted pronunciation, whispering or trailing off at the end of phrases, it can be annoying. I go along with that when it's Tori Amos, because somehow it's part of the power of her performance. But that power is Amos's because she's unique, because she reaches beyond what's been done. When it's mimicked, the power vanishes.
The lyrics are intelligent and self-referential. Over and over, they throw out zingers that make me go "hmmm." In "What If," Sage sings, "What if there's no one who'll put up with me? What if I'm destined to always remain alone? What if this question's as selfish as it seems?" In "Too Many Women," she says, "I thank my lucky scars you found me." And in "Frost," she says, "The thing that haunts me like a ghost is how I squandered all my weakness." I like smart, arty lyrics. But after a while, these pile up and I start to feel numbed -- rather as if I'd just read an entire joke book in one sitting. The songs lack the visceral immediacy and intimacy a great singer-songwriter conveys. Instead, they feel distant, as if Sage is watching herself sing about her experiences. Strings of one-liners, instead of a real story.
Sage is clever and clearly multi-talented. She has technical mastery. But in the end, she's not vivid. She lacks power. This is a nice album. But I won't play it over and over, being freshly moved each time, the way I do with The McGarrigle Hour, a collection of simple folk songs.
Rachael Sage has a Web site here. MPress Records is her own label.
