Published on Jan 13, 1999
Less accomplished artists have tried to merge two different
styles of music that are incompatible in order to achieve some sort
of originality. Jazz and hip-hop, metal and classical music
arrangements to a lesser extent and Christian and punk.
It brings to mind an episode of
The Simpsons when eternally hungry Homer Simpson gets out a
can of ‘gum n’ nuts,’ the first snack ever to combine the two
snacks. But when an artist is able to successfully merge two
incompatible styles, you’ve got some magic. Take the inconceivable
marriage of techno and folk.
Take into account, Suzanne Vega was one of the first mainstream
artists to do this, and do it well with
99.9 F °, way the hell back in 1992 when techno and
industrial were still very much underground. But in 1997, Beth
Orton made a huge splash with an album that has sold barely 100,000
copies in the U.S.
With little to no airplay,
Trailer Park, wound up on many critics’ “best of” lists.
While the album itself is uneven, it shows Orton can play for both
the folk and techno teams. Her wounded voice is distinctive and
instantly memorable while at the same time drawing comparisons to
Joni Mitchell and Suzanne Vega.
The techno side is just as accomplished. Helped by William Orbit
(the one responsible for Madonna’s best album of her career,
Ray Of Light), spacy, ambient arrangements are all over
Trailer Park.
The album begins with some distorted violins and enters with a
funky beat-box beat of “She Cries Your Name.” It grips you and
never lets you go. But Orton’s voice towers over the arrangements,
so that you hear the full effect when she laments, “How long can
this love remain?”
Unfortunately, the second song is a major pot hole. “Tangent”
shows when the techno arrangement falls. The computer, moog-like
space blips sounded like background music for my N-64. I’ll forever
associate this song as “The video game song.”
Problems also occur midway through the album. As Orton’s voice
is intoxicating, it is also draining. Her limited range tends to
make the mid-portion of the album seem like one continuous downer.
If you don’t have a nice cup of coffee next to you, it is likely
you may nod off.
But nod off and you’ll skip “Someone’s Daughter,” one of the
more powerful songs on the album. And “Galaxy Of Emptiness” is one
of the most beautiful closer songs to an album I’ve heard in years.
Her vocals pierce you as she sings the lonely chorus, “There’s a
galaxy of emptiness tonight/a while galaxy of emptiness
tonight.”
Credit Orton for taking a huge risk. While Vega’s
99.9 F ° was more of a side project to her other works,
Orton is stuck with this genre, much like Tricky or Portishead. And
as difficult as it is to marry two distinct genres, when she gets
it right, as she does on two-thirds of this album, she gets it
dead-on. If her next album can build on
Trailer Park‘s best moments as well as iron out the weaker
moments of the rest of the album, you’ve got a potential classic in
the making.
Her accomplishments on
Trailer Park have not gone unrewarded. Her next album, due
very early this year, is certain to be one of the most anticipated
albums of this year. Not bad for an artist who is about 400,000
short of a gold album.