Largely prohibitive to my desire to be the greatest music writer in the history of ever is my total insistence upon seeing the forest for the trees. I can’t listen to a track and simply describe it, because I absolutely require that I know the composer, understand his intent, and feel what emotions put these sounds into a song.
I pretty much want to know what time of day it was. Was an obvious spot for a hook ignored because the artist was tired and on deadline? Or is there something deeper I’m missing here?
Let me reiterate here, that this is a problem for me in reviewing music. A real problem. I have absolutely no idea what to make of Charlotte Gainsbourg’s new album IRM. Because while I like the album intensely, I can’t quite place my finger on what’s going on.
I’m fairly certain that if a Beck fan had not heard IRM, I could just say, “Imagine Modern Guilt, somber from Sea Change, written for a French girl to sing.” There. IRM. They’d agree with me, unless of course they were wrong.
To me, it just sounds like Beck took every cue from his time with Danger Mouse, and wrote an album for a cute middle age French lady. Don’t get me wrong, that sounds like my ideal type of music. I love every ounce of this album. It’s sexy. No – it’s a sexy lady in a trench coat on a foggy Parisian evening, luring you down to the left bank with wine. (Just French pop, and sounding like Beck wrote it in 2009. Which he did.)
See?! That’s my problem with this album. I love the music, I love Charlotte’s voice, I love the eyebrow-raising catches, trips, and hooks Beck pours into it. I just can’t see the forest for the forest.
Don’t get me wrong, sports fans. I’ll dive headfirst into this album in no time. I’m absolutely sure of it. It’s gorgeous, inlaid with a thousand little audio jewels, and you’ll only go deeper, the deeper you listen to it.
I just think I’d be fawning over Charlotte harder than Beck is, had I not heard Modern Guilt first.