REVIEW: Lida Husik, Faith in Space (Alias) / Pee Shy,
_Don't Get Too Comfortable (Mercury)
- Chelsea Spear
In retrospect, Lida Husik's Fly Stereophonic was one of the most beguiling albums to come out of 1997. After various folk- and electronica-influenced missteps, Husik finally found a compelling voice in marshmallowy, droning mid-tempo tunes that suggested Stereolab as fronted by Liz Phair. Smart lyrics and billowy melodies made this an album to listen to on rainy days when the only thing that would make you feel better is some ginger tea and gentle music that wouldn't insult your intelligence.
Rather than deepening that approach, Husik has elected to go on yet another techno-experimental journey with her new disc, Faith in Space. These twelve tepid tracks feature warmed-over ambient beats, with Husik's lovely voice floating loftily over them. Unlike Fly Stereophonic, no one track stands out -- after a while, they all blend together in a kind of mid-tempo haze.
Luckily Faith in Space isn't a proper follow-up to her last album, but rather another techno experiment with British DJ and ardent Husik fan Benmont Tench, which she feels compelled to try every now and again. While I applaud Lida for trying something so different after mining such a successful groove with her previous album, I also wish that she would realise which limbs are solid enough to go out on, and which she should just leave alone. This dabbling in electronica would have been far more successful and fulfilling had she tried to integrate it into the music she plays full time, as with Beth Orton's successes including techno breakbeats into a singer/songwriter forum.
While Lida continues to overextend her artistic voice, New York quartet Pee Shy pick up the slack and release a surprisingly fresh and tasty sophomore release with Don't Get Too Comfortable . The band's previous release, Who Let All The Monkeys Out?, tried for a girly They Might Be Giants vibe but fell flat on their bracing tweeness. However, with Comfortable the band upgrades their production from a lofi overintimacy to a clean, crisp approach. The songs are stronger on the whole than most of Monkeys, and the zingy instrumentation adds another dimension to their tuneful approach; a panoramic-sounding clarinet glides through "Bathroom Floor", and opening track "Mr Whisper" features a peripatetic piano line straight out of the TV show A Charlie Brown Christmas. The vocals and lyrics can occasionally be problematic -- while singers Jenny Juristo and Cindy Wheeler have commendably dropped the forced baby voice that marred much of the previous album, they occasionally adopt a similarly grating gravelly tone that's supposed to suggest Liz Phair's conversational approach. On those tracks in which the gals drop the pretense and just sing, they reveal sweet, appealing voices reminiscent of none other than Lida Husik at her prime. And while the lyrics may look heavy-handed and pretentious on the page, the girls' belief in their material and smart, sarcastic approach breathes new life into the sometimes-dubious words, which is a mark of a quality rock singer and frontperson. The strongest tracks on this album, including the playful "Greatest Show on Earth" and the poignant "Fear", have whetted my appetite to hear how the band will expand upon these ideas on their next album.
