Published on Apr 10, 2003
As much as it pains me to say this, sometimes a little pressure
from record labels can be a good thing. Honestly, Prince’s
Sign O’ The Times, over which Prince fought with his old
label, was a much better product than
Crystal Ball, his intended opus. Record labels tell artists
like Ween and Lou Reed to mix in some song structure and chorus to
curb their tendency to be confrontationalist smartasses.
Before
Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, the Aimee Mann story was the fairy
tale of choice for music geeks who despised the ruthless era of big
record companies. She was a tremendously talented songwriter who
couldn’t translate her talent into big record sales, so she was
dropped. Then came
Magnolia and
Bachelor No. 2, which topped critics’ lists in 1999 and 2000
and gave Mann decent record sales. All of this after she was
dropped.
However, Mann had something to prove when she recorded
Bachelor No. 2. She needed a record deal. Therefore, to
paraphrase A Tribe Called Quest, “The product had to be dope.” The
lyrics had to stand out, the music had to be arresting and it had
to be an album that could hold up with repeat listens. Basically,
record a really, really good album.
Mission accomplished.
But fast forward to 2002 and Aimee Mann is in a different
position. She definitely doesn’t have much to prove.
Bachelor No. 2 scored enough response to ensure a fan base
that would likely buy her latest album, Lost in Space within the
first week of release. Unfortunately,
Lost in Space sounds like an album recorded in the corporate
environment that Mann fought so desperately to break herself free
of. It sounds rushed; the lyrics sound half-finished and the music
is limp.
I’ve tried to like
Lost in Space. It can still find a home on my CD player at
times. Some songs are able to match up with some of Mann’s best,
such as the title track and “Real Bad News.” Despite some of the
trite lyrics, Mann’s vocals sound as good as ever. When she’s on,
no one can make depression sound so elegantly sweet and
sophisticated. Some songs, like “Guys Like Me” reveal their charm
only after a few listens. But compared to her past glories, this
likely to be a “fans only” album.
Perhaps the best song to sum up
Lost in Space is “Invisible Ink.” The song opens up with
Mann’s weary voice stating “There comes a time when you swim or
sink, so I jumped in the drink.” The song goes downhill from there,
mainly because it was such a strong opener. The chorus is a whiny
“the plot is cliché, the jokes are stale.” Within the song
are a couple of keeper lines, but it definitely could have spent a
bit more time in the oven (yes, I know it’s a cliché,
pointing out another cliché).
Mann will likely rebound. This album will be a small blemish in
an otherwise stellar collection of works. And as I’m writing this,
“Today’s The Day” washes down like great wine, so it’s not a total
failure. It’s just that, for an artist who is known for her
perfectionist ways,
Lost In Space feels that way.