Published on Dec 30, 1999
When Lauryn Hill came out with her solo album we were all so
impressed! She wrote every song, played nearly every instrument and
produced the album herself and she wasn’t yet 24 years old. And the
most important thing: the album was damn good!
Well, Lauryn is not alone in the category of female, musical
whiz kid. New Zealand has one of their own in Bic Runga, who at the
age of 20 had already written, played and produced her own dreamy
album
Drive.
A native of Christchurch, Runga grew up in a family where music
was as constant as breathing (her sister Boh is in group Stellar).
By the time she was 18, she was fairly proficient on drums, guitar
and keyboards. She released two singles and later included them on
her debut album.
That album,
Drive, is a warm, intimate and delicate album employing the
use of sparse arrangements and highlighting Runga’s crystalline
voice and writing talent. It starts out with the title track which
consists of Runga’s vocals weaving through a single guitar
accompaniment. It’s a poignant song about breaking up. She is
riding in the car with her lover knowing that once she is dropped
off it will be their last good-bye.
The second cut, her big hit “Sway”, is a wonderfully melodic
song reminiscent of Crowded House (She gets a little help from
former Crowdie, Nick Seymour, in the arrangements department.) She
sings about the ambivalent emotions experienced when approaching a
love interest for the first time: “And there’s no cure, no way to
be sure / Why everything’s turned inside out/Instilling so much
doubt / It makes me so tired-I feel so uninspired / My head is
battling with my heart / My logic has been torn apart.”
“Sway” is buttressed by another breakup song, “Hey,” which still
has the quiet quality of the other songs except it’s punctuated by
a guitar-heavy bridge and a sharper edge to Runga’s vocals. “Swim”
and “Sorry” are also rockers, but with all the guitars and drums
they still manage to sound quiet, adding more intimacy.
“Roll Into One” is a rockabilly flavored tune that reminds me of
Sam Phillips on her
Indescribable Wow album. The song reveals the singer’s
annoyance at a fellow who is waffling about the idea of spending
time with her: “We could sit in the sun/Let the days roll into one
/ How could you take so long to decide? / How would you know until
you tried?”
The vocal performance on “Suddenly Strange” is dripping with so
much feeling it’s hard to believe that this song is anything but
autobiographical. “Delight” is a dark song about a lover who’s
closed off and delight is something the singer reminisces about.
The arrangement is so sparse that it seems that the instruments are
simply accents for Runga’s vocals. It’s a striking effect.
There’s not a bad cut on this album. One might argue that it is
a bit over-saturated with despair and gloominess, but that is not a
criteria I use to judge great music. And if you think Runga is some
kind of pessimistic, despondent waif sitting around waiting for the
phone to ring, then pop the disc into your CD-ROM drive and check
out her 10-minute interview. She’s simply ebullient. Music as
therapy? Who knows. Why don’t you give yourself a dose?