Just That It’s Delicate
“You’ve gotta listen to this!!” – The tone of his voice bordered on the frantic. Having heard this phrase a countless times from countless people who seem to want your stamp of approval on something ‘avant-garde’ they’ve heard and has the mass media excited, I almost ignored the suggestion. Usually the ‘finder’ forgets about the ‘find’ (musical or literary) in a matter of weeks (it’s a tried and trusted formula). However, this time there was a condescending feel to this oft heard advise when J told me “You’ve gotta listen to this!!” – almost like he was doing me a favor by letting me in on Damein Rice’s album; simply called “O”. Curious, I looked up the Irish troubadour on the internet. The at once stunning lyrics whetted my curiosity
“Stones taught me to fly
Love taught me to lie
Life taught me to die
So it's not hard to fall
When you float like a cannonball”
Lyrics that evocative had me excited. However, the media reviews, comparison to greats and the seemingly excessive praise had me guarded. Buying and listening to the album immediately assuaged all my wary thoughts. The album deserves all the praise it has received.
A review for an album that has been hailed by critics everywhere suffers the repeat of the accolades. It warrants a literary “wringing of the goose’s neck” – a journalistic device to present a popular theme in another light- to present to the reader a “never heard before” feel to the article. Damien Rice’s album was no different. The album has been dissected and analyzed to the extreme. It has always been difficult to separate art and the artist for the critic. Music, literature or painting does not end with the joy of beholding the art itself for the critic. She must jump into the skin of the artist and experience the “childbirth” for the satisfactory explanation of genius. “O” is one piece of music that should be enjoyed without trying to analyze the artist or the lyrics.
Each song is a very intimate experience. The songs seem to – almost forcefully – reach into your soul through your ears and lay it thread bare in front of you. The aural and visual imagery conjured by the lyrics are powerful. When Rice sings:
“Cold, Cold water surrounds me now”
followed by:
“Lord can you hear me now”
you feel a physical chill. You shudder and feel wet. That is what I meant by powerful lyrics. You can almost see the image of the dark calm water body without effort of vision.
Rice’s vocals are beautiful. Like a well aged vintage, his voice rolls in your ear’s palate and goes down so very smoothly. The heady feeling you get relishing the sounds (and sights – if you will) of this album is not far from the feeling of having ingested a rare and potent vintage. Only that, the album can be relished over and over unlike the wine.
You salivate when drinking in the sounds and words of the album. When Rice audibly sucks in his breath in “The Blower’s daughter”, you feel yourself doing the same unconsciously.
Art appreciation (visual or otherwise) is usually a very personal experience. A masterpiece is usually born when a chord is struck between the audience and the piece itself. It is something that needs to be experienced. Contemplating the flawlessness and sheer beauty of a Monet will stir emotions inside the observer that cannot be evoked by the roadside painting of an amateur. So it is with “O”. Thoughts that arise from listening to the tracks on the album may catch you by surprise. So be warned.
“Older chests reveal themselves
Like a crack in a wall
Starting small, and grow in time”
If asked to sum up the album in a single word, I can’t think of a more suitable word than “Delicate”. A very unpretentious album with no qualms about lack of social or political messages, “O” is a true example of “art for art’s sake”. Each song evokes in the listener some forgotten memory, some unspoken emotion. This is not an album you would want to listen with a bunch of acquaintances. It would be akin to undressing in front of strangers. The songs lay you soul with very little to cover itself up modestly.
“Still a little bit of your taste in my mouth
Still a little bit of you laced with my doubt”
Musically, the strength of the album is surely Rice’s powerful voice. The subtle strings complement the voice. Lisa Hannigan lends her voice to a few songs in the album and holds her own against Rice’s exquisite, balm-like vocals.
Rice has been compared to many of the industry greats from the past. His Van Morrisonesque, Blower’s daughter is compared to some of the songs in Morrison’s Astral Weeks where his love for an under aged girl were so beautifully rendered. The poetic metaphors in “O” have lent comparisons with Bob Dylan.
“Tiredness fuels empty thoughts
I find myself disposed
Brightness fills empty space
In search of inspiration”
“The Story of O” was written by Dominique Aury, (as "Pauline Reage") in 1954 . There are claims that it is THE most erotic story every written (though I vaguely suspect it will be way out of place in our times). Though the author of this review has not read the story of O, when Rice sings
“Amy come sit on my wall, read me the story of O”
one can only hope that the book does justice to the seducing lyrics of an album that, effortlessly denudes your thoughts in a listening. Jeez…You’ve gotta listen to this!!
“Stones taught me to fly
Love taught me to lie
Life taught me to die
So it's not hard to fall
When you float like a cannonball”
Lyrics that evocative had me excited. However, the media reviews, comparison to greats and the seemingly excessive praise had me guarded. Buying and listening to the album immediately assuaged all my wary thoughts. The album deserves all the praise it has received.
A review for an album that has been hailed by critics everywhere suffers the repeat of the accolades. It warrants a literary “wringing of the goose’s neck” – a journalistic device to present a popular theme in another light- to present to the reader a “never heard before” feel to the article. Damien Rice’s album was no different. The album has been dissected and analyzed to the extreme. It has always been difficult to separate art and the artist for the critic. Music, literature or painting does not end with the joy of beholding the art itself for the critic. She must jump into the skin of the artist and experience the “childbirth” for the satisfactory explanation of genius. “O” is one piece of music that should be enjoyed without trying to analyze the artist or the lyrics.
Each song is a very intimate experience. The songs seem to – almost forcefully – reach into your soul through your ears and lay it thread bare in front of you. The aural and visual imagery conjured by the lyrics are powerful. When Rice sings:
“Cold, Cold water surrounds me now”
followed by:
“Lord can you hear me now”
you feel a physical chill. You shudder and feel wet. That is what I meant by powerful lyrics. You can almost see the image of the dark calm water body without effort of vision.
Rice’s vocals are beautiful. Like a well aged vintage, his voice rolls in your ear’s palate and goes down so very smoothly. The heady feeling you get relishing the sounds (and sights – if you will) of this album is not far from the feeling of having ingested a rare and potent vintage. Only that, the album can be relished over and over unlike the wine.
You salivate when drinking in the sounds and words of the album. When Rice audibly sucks in his breath in “The Blower’s daughter”, you feel yourself doing the same unconsciously.
Art appreciation (visual or otherwise) is usually a very personal experience. A masterpiece is usually born when a chord is struck between the audience and the piece itself. It is something that needs to be experienced. Contemplating the flawlessness and sheer beauty of a Monet will stir emotions inside the observer that cannot be evoked by the roadside painting of an amateur. So it is with “O”. Thoughts that arise from listening to the tracks on the album may catch you by surprise. So be warned.
“Older chests reveal themselves
Like a crack in a wall
Starting small, and grow in time”
If asked to sum up the album in a single word, I can’t think of a more suitable word than “Delicate”. A very unpretentious album with no qualms about lack of social or political messages, “O” is a true example of “art for art’s sake”. Each song evokes in the listener some forgotten memory, some unspoken emotion. This is not an album you would want to listen with a bunch of acquaintances. It would be akin to undressing in front of strangers. The songs lay you soul with very little to cover itself up modestly.
“Still a little bit of your taste in my mouth
Still a little bit of you laced with my doubt”
Musically, the strength of the album is surely Rice’s powerful voice. The subtle strings complement the voice. Lisa Hannigan lends her voice to a few songs in the album and holds her own against Rice’s exquisite, balm-like vocals.
Rice has been compared to many of the industry greats from the past. His Van Morrisonesque, Blower’s daughter is compared to some of the songs in Morrison’s Astral Weeks where his love for an under aged girl were so beautifully rendered. The poetic metaphors in “O” have lent comparisons with Bob Dylan.
“Tiredness fuels empty thoughts
I find myself disposed
Brightness fills empty space
In search of inspiration”
“The Story of O” was written by Dominique Aury, (as "Pauline Reage") in 1954 . There are claims that it is THE most erotic story every written (though I vaguely suspect it will be way out of place in our times). Though the author of this review has not read the story of O, when Rice sings
“Amy come sit on my wall, read me the story of O”
one can only hope that the book does justice to the seducing lyrics of an album that, effortlessly denudes your thoughts in a listening. Jeez…You’ve gotta listen to this!!
