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• Stick to the silver screen, Scarlett 5/19/08
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| CONTACT THE HERALD |
Melanie Munk, Features Editor
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Published: Monday, May 19, 2008
Scarlett Johansson's debut album: Yep, it's pretty bad
By Andy Rathbun Herald Columnist
This Tuesday, actress Scarlett Johansson plans to release her debut album, along with new music from Islands and Mudhoney. Here's a look at each.
Scarlett Johansson, "Anywhere I Lay My Head"(ATCO Records)
After listening to Scarlett Johansson's collection of Tom Waits covers, a question keeps running through my head: Why?
Why would this talented actress want to put out an album in the first place, joining the ranks of Russell Crowe and Juliette Lewis?
And why would she choose to cover Waits -- a brilliant songwriter, but also a difficult one to nail?
The only reason I can find seems to be, why not?
Johansson teamed with David Sitek, of TV on the Radio fame, to produce the album. Sitek described the duo's sound as "Tinkerbell on cough syrup."
Intrigued? Don't be. "Anywhere I Lay My Head" is closer to elevator music for hipsters.
The main problem is Johansson. Her deep, throaty voice sounds as dull as tap water, the exact opposite of her wry on-screen persona. Sitek does her few favors, surrounding her with cold sounds that remove the gothic vibrancy of Waits' urban folk.
Now don't get me wrong. I didn't expect these remakes to be as interesting as Waits' originals. And after all, Waits has been covered fairly well by dozens of other artists, including Rod Stewart, the Eagles and Sarah McLachlan. I have no problem with someone taking a shot at his songs. Sitek and Johansson just don't do it very well.
The album includes songs from 30 years of Waits career, including "Falling Down," "I Don't Wanna Grow Up" and the title track. The duo also tosses on one original, "Song for Jo."
That track blends into its surroundings, almost passing for one of the Waits' own. It doesn't accomplish that feat because Sitek and Johansson wrote a track as good as Waits, however. No, it slips by because elsewhere, Waits' music has been taken down to their level.
Mudhoney, "The Lucky Ones" (Sub Pop Records)
I know, I know, Mudhoney are icons, among the first bands signed to Sub Pop Records, one of a select handful of acts featured in the critically acclaimed book "Our Band Could Be Your Life."
I don't care. And I don't care about the group's new album, "The Lucky Ones," or, for that matter, the re-release of "Superfuzz Bigmuff: Deluxe Edition," also out Tuesday.
Some wonder why Mudhoney didn't break big when all their Seattle compadres -- Nirvana, Soundgarden, Pearl Jam, Alice in Chains -- exploded. I'd chalk it up to singer Mark Arm. His scruffy wail lacks the memorable character of those other groups' scruffy wailers.
On the new album, Arm starts by warning us that the "past makes no sense, the future looks tense," over the jab of a piano. It's a raucous introduction to an album that unfortunately never pauses for breath.
While I've got no problem with raw fuzz, by the end of Mudhoney's latest, I felt bludgeoned to death by a guitar.
Islands, "Arm's Way" (Anti- Records)
Nick Thorburn has been giving the Grim Reaper cute little winks ever since 2003, when Unicorns put out its debut album, "Who Will Cut Our Hair When We're Gone?"
On Islands' latest release, the mostly fantastic "Arm's Way," Thorburn goes back to the graveyard with a light step.
One moment, he's singing about a home invasion that ends in a stabbing. The next, he belts out a song like "Abominable Snow," playfully mentioning he may have "spotted a Yeti, yet I didn't die."
Thorburn, who formed Islands after Unicorns broke up about 2005, drapes "Arm's Way" in his most Baroque arrangements to date. Almost every song on this feverish album -- some of which was recorded in Woodinville -- gets a symphonic swoop.
Islands, now a sextet, ends up sounding like the teenage offspring of Electric Light Orchestra and fellow Canucks Arcade Fire.
Most of these songs are exciting, particularly the sleek dance number "Creeper." Signs of bloat, however, appear by the album's end, as tracks stretch into infinity and the overblown orchestration begins to bog songs down.
Still, it's hard to imagine anyone else singing about death with so much life.
Columnist Andy Rathbun: 425-339-3455 or arathbun@heraldnet.com
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