Lisa Loeb and Nine Stories' debut album, Tails, is void of the relevant edge which is so prevalent in the work of many comparable female artists, lyrically shallow at times and altogether simplistic in structure. That said, it probably comes as a surprise to find that I actually enjoyed this album, so much so that I began to wonder whether my alternative sensibilities were beginning to evaporate.
These concerns, however, brought me to a very important realization. Artists need not always produce challenging, introspective and complex work in order for an album to be considered relevant. Tails is none of these, yet still works because of dazzling vocals, vivid imagery and hook laden music.
The first time I heard Lisa Loeb sing was at CBGB's Gallery in New York City, a venue tailor made for acoustical performances. Periodically, Loeb would appear in clubs without her band and perform acoustic sets, always experimenting with revised arrangements. On this particular night, I remember having to labor through what seemed like years worth of interminably boring opening acts before Loeb took the stage, adorable, bespeckled and carrying just an acoustic guitar which covered much of her small frame. She smiled, thanked us for coming and then proceeded to mesmerize those who remained for the ensuing hour. Her voice filled every crevice of the room and had us captured and enthralled until the final note was sung.
There was something special about her music. It was simple in both texture and structure, yet it was amazingly vivid, creating images from lyrics like no one I'd seen before. She was a folk singer who sang pop songs, a storyteller who recounted tales of an unforgotten past.
That in mind, it seems wholly appropriate that this album be entitled Tails, for it is brimming with songs which are, in actuality, mini short stories with a changing cast of characters, with Lisa always remaining in the center as the one constant. Given the spelling of the title and the fact that the album cover is a cartoonish drawing of a cat (very much in the artistic style of Edie Brickell), one might reach the conclusion that the title refers to that feline's rear appendage. However, a quick listen to the album reveals the band's play on words.
The lyrics on Tails are most reminiscent of those of Natalie Merchant, yet nowhere near as introspective, brooding and resourceful. They are, however, character driven pieces with a vivid literary quality. "Snow Day" creates the image of a dreary, winter evening and the depression which sometimes accompanies such a dismal night, with the object of the song being the singer's only solace - ("It's a bad day...but you're my medicine"). In "Taffy", one of the more playfully sarcastic songs on Tails, Loeb sings to a friend whose lack of forthrightness seems to incite rage in her - ("my friend's got a bruise on his leg from where I press my knee, everytime you speak"). An acerbic sense of humor and a pensive optimism seem to be songwriter Loeb's strongest assets, creating an original insight into life's more commonplace situations.
There is an erratic and almost schizophrenic musical structure in Tails, however, which serves, at times, to diminish Loeb's literary lyrics and masterful vocals. The album seems to fluctuate between songs which are energetic and well crafted pop gems with those which are moody and downright monotonous. "Taffy", Waiting For Wednesday" and "Rose-Colored Times" are graphic examples of the band at it's strongest - animated, resourceful and infectious, while songs like "Sandalwood" and "Hurricane" are stark reminders of what can happen when a band aims too high.
As far as debut albums go, however, Tails is a solid effort, managing to capture and crystallize both Loeb's luxurious vocals and picturesque lyrics into well crafted pop gems. So, while comparisons to Victoria Williams and Jane Siberry can wait, Lisa Loeb has certainly laid the necessary groundwork.
