Emiliana Torrini’s parents must be so proud right now. Their little girl has finally grown up and blossomed. Sure, the Icelandic songstress showed promise before but you couldn’t help feeling she was holding something back. Love In The Time Of Science was enjoyable but derivative, while Fisherman’s Woman was haunting but one dimensional. Me And Armini is altogether more assured, more original and more diverse.
For a start, there are several upbeat songs (a sure sign of Torrini’s growing confidence), including ‘Jungle Drum’ (a two-minute ball of energy, which combines playful vocals, bouncy bass and a persistent rhythm) and ‘Big Jumps’ (which skips along on catchy acoustic guitar as the lyrics urge you to escape your comfort zone).
Then there are mellower tunes, where Torrini’s mischievous charm peeps out. The title track is a gentle reggae song of sympathy for a naive stalker, while ‘Fireheads’ is the kind of fuzzy, stoner-pop that Ben Kweller would be proud of.
And we get a glimpse of Torrini’s darker side too: ‘Dead Duck’ is unsettling, with nonsensical, effects-laden vocals that carry the listener into an extended psychedelic instrumental outro; and the echoing vocals on ‘Gun’, combined with industrial electric guitar, create an atmosphere of quiet malevolence.
If this album was a bag of lollies, it would be Skittles Sours: colourful and sweet, but with a twist.
Article by Andy McLean. Copyright held by author.
First published in The Brag, Sydney, 2008.
Me and Armini is available through Remote Control Records.
No comments:
Post a Comment