On her sixth studio release, the self-produced ‘Joe Sent Me’, Vanessa Daou explorer the nuances of language and poetry, building the sonic structures around vocal collages of poems, phrasings and stream-of-consciousness thoughts that all refer to the compositions of love, both destroyed and renewed. Easily her most musically adventurous effort to date, the album has a rich organic sound that employs live instrumentation including guitar, piano, brush wires, upright bass and brass.
Opening with a menacing scrape of guitars, “Manifesto”, the album’s first track, gives way to a robust, near-hip-hop beat under the support of a rumbling bassline. The temperature of both exhilaration and desire rises right around the time Daou sings, “You’re a sexy gun,” during the very moment a high-hat kicks in. The vocals are buried deep in the mix and give the impression that they were recorded under a suffocating heap of blankets, amplifying the sense of claustrophobia inherent in the song. Meanwhile, the electronicized cabaret-stomp of “Black and White” unfurls in a silver spray of ghostly piano licks and burlesque horns. In addition to being the album’s most accessible track, it also features some of the most inspired lyrics Daou has ever penned.
In many ways, ‘Joe Sent Me’ is like a cumulous cloud personified. The album starts out in full-bodied pillows of rhythm and sound before slowly fading out into a vapour of sonic air. The impression one gets when listening from start to finish is rather lovely. Daou’s otherworldly headspace is so compellingly dreamlike, it’s inescapable. Yet we never lose sight of the emotions on display. “Consequences”, an exercise in decadence and groove, draws the listener in with a tale of a possible rendezvous, which may or may never happen. The vocals, wafting like kettle-steam, coil like lace over the sensuous-slink of some heavy R&B. The spaced-out throb of “Hurricanes” pulses with slippery rhythms and the percussion of lively handclaps, turning in hypnotic circles. Here, the emotion, caught in the fragmentation of the lyrics, centers on the idea of repressed memory, rapidly being pulled to the surface. Amidst the scattershot stanzas, all the nuances of pain and love are perfectly captured.
By the time the album reaches its halfway mark, Daou coolly slides into a far more muted territory of sound, with the atmospherics pooling in the depths of the album’s sonic well. At the heart of the disc lies two of the album’s most curious numbers: the psychedelic strawberry-swirl of the short and supremely sweet “True” and the unnervingly chilly and mysterious “The Hook”, both of which introduce the listener to Daou’s new and welcome flirtations with the guitar. The album at this point also delves into the deeper reaches of old-world jazz, evoking images of pin-striped suits, despondent nightclub singers and 2 a.m. scallywag drunks, clinging to the back walls of derelict buildings.
“Save Yourself”, a provocatively elegiac number, beautifully encapsulates the romance of despair, bringing to mind images of vintage film posters plastered to peeling walls, strewn comic books and worn-out vinyl record albums, skipping and cracking their rhythms into the night. Here, Daou paints the portrait of a lonely, young man, peering out the bare windows of some Lower East village flat, garishly lit by the flickering neon signs outside. In the distance we can hear the sampled clatter of some tinny percussion resounding like faraway traffic.
The jazz becomes full-on on “Once in a While”; a hazy sax winding its way through a lazy, elegant groove, a druggy Rhodes piano and the sly modulations of a few keyboard licks. All the while, the track is kept warmed over by the hushed coos of Daou’s ether-like voice.
And when the album finally winds down to a close, signing off with “Heart of Wax” and a stirring reprise of “The Hook”, we are left with the sense of being on the end of a deliciously cruel parting shot. It’s hard to tell whether the silk and satin are simply veils for Daou’s many inner demons or if she is just winking through her pain. But her kind of pain hurts real good and the final slap in the face feels more like a warm, fresh kiss.
credits
released September 16, 2008
Written, arranged, produced and performed by Vanessa Daou
Words, songs and vocals by Vanessa Daou
Co-production by Anthony Johnson
* except where noted
Players:
Piano & keyboards by Wayne Bennett
Guitar on “Life Force” & “Save Yourself” by Stephen Ellis
Saxophone by Matt Hong
Drums, Bass and Guitar by Anthony Johnson
Additional production on “Black & White” by Blake Robin aka Baron Von Luxxxury
Additional production on “Heart Of Wax” by Blank & Jones
Pre-production vocal recording by Greta Byrum at Recorded Books, NYC
Pre-production engineering by Rob Granniss
Pre-Mastering, Engineering, Recording, Programming and Additional Production by Mike Degen at Stimulant Sound, NYC
Mastering by Jeff Lager
Artwork by Vanessa Daou
Design by vusource
Executive Producers: Vanessa Daou and Craig Roseberry for KID Recordings, LLC
Vanessa Daou is an American singer, songwriter, poet, visual artist and dancer. Most notably a musician, her work is known
among electronica, nu jazz and trip hop circles for her trademark spoken word and aspirated singing style as well as its erotic and literary subtexts.
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