Aw, it’s a widdle breakout album! And a really good one! Somehow, Feist has gone and really put things together, making a whole album without a single bad song. seriously, though, it’s the same idea as the other albums, but done WAY better. Everything sounds like the whisper-indie-rock she’s best at! EVERY song, in it’s own way, sounds like something you’d want to have playing while you sit with your lover on a hill overlooking the city. All the slow songs are sweet, all the faster songs are cool. It’s really rather grand: let’s have a closer looksie:
There! Wasn’t that refreshing? I agree with myself on this one. Yes, sir, Mr. Myles, the bouncy “My Moon, My Man” is exactly the kind of nice love song our womenfolk need to sing more of, minute-long bird-chirping blah ending notwithstanding. And yes, Mr. Stocker, the strange vocal modulation on the reflective “Past in Present” does fit the subject matter nicely, and it is true that “Brandy Alexander” is one of the best lover-as-liquor songs out there. It’s also fun to clap and say “Sealion!” in private. Okay, I do it in public pretty often, too.
As I said, the slow songs are all the same, with apologetic opener “So Sorry” being the only truly memorable one. But if Feist thinks it’s okay to admit she didn’t put much effort into the last few songs on this album, then I think it’s okay to be impressed at how worthwhile they are, especially considering she didn’t say anything like that. There’s also a (just one!) generic indie rock song, a pop song about counting to four, and a Lilith Fair-ish (only good!) soft rocker called “The Limit to Your Love,” which is actually rather sad.
No, this album won’t do much to change the image of female singers as being obsessed with emotions, and the Feist on here may well enjoy watching The English Patient, but I think she’s too confident for that kind of blubber. We get to write what we want to, and gosh damn it these are song nice sentiments to share, up on that hill together, drinking red wine and absent-mindedly groping through your conversations about how you can both imagine it all stretching out forever and how 28 isn’t so old after all.