Front Page Reviews & AIR

I rarely bathe.  I mean, literally, take a bath in a tub.  A few weeks ago I found myself really wanting to escape.  The New England winter was looming and my bones were getting cold.  I lit a candle and gave the bubble-bath thing a try.  Music was a must, but what?  I chose Canadian singer songwriter Feist’s fifth full-length studio effort Metals as the soundtrack for my new adventure.  As the steam rose up the windows, I felt as though I had entered a world all my own, and allowed her lulling vocals to take me deeper and deeper into relaxation.  I chose this album on a whim, but it seemed to be the best bubble bath music I could have possibly chosen.  For someone who takes a 5 minute shower, resting for this 50 minute opus might seem like no small feat, but as the album closed with the distantly simple “Get It Wrong, Get It Right,” I looked at my pruned hands and burned down candle in happy surprise.

In my experience with Feist—both as a solo artist and as a member of the indie collective Broken Social Scene—I have found solace in her ability to be provocative without overwhelming me as a listener.  Her popular success, however, has come, generally, from her more upbeat, foot-tapping singles like “1234,” “Mushaboom,” “My Moon Man” and “I Feel it All.”  Metals lacks these more upbeat tracks and relies solely on the melodic trance of ballads.  Feist has an amazing vocal range and the simplicity of the instrumental samples highlight this, but there is no specific song on the album that I found myself wanting to play on repeat.

The album’s first single “How Come You Never Go There,” a moving, heartbroken ode, is a good representation of Metals as a whole.   As she sings the song’s refrain “How come you never go there?/How come I’m so alone there?” you find yourself remembering the times you’ve wished, to little or no avail, that a desired person will come, even though they never do (no matter how long you’ve waited).  There is also a strong percussive and stripped-down instrumental presence throughout the track that, as with the entire album, keeps the listener engaged.  The way these instrumentals have been put together provides a welcome sense of structured chaos that is new for Feist, one which sets her sound on Metals apart from counterparts like Imogen Heap or Regina Spektor.

But the lyrics are probably the album’s strongest point.   For instance, there is a personal touch in the lyrics of “Comfort Me” that conveys the simple message “when you comfort me/it doesn’t give me comfort, actually.”  And in the punchy “Commotion,” Feist evocatively says of lost love that “it held me down tight/it took all my fight/it broke all the windows/it came flame from the kindle.”  Although generally painful,the words come so delicately through the speakers it feels as though Feist is gently hugging you with each line; her voice like a quiet rain of lovers lost.

Metals is a total day-dreamy trip down memory lane, which—if you’re deciding you might just take a bubble bath or go for a solo drive through the countryside—provides a wonderful companion.  The album allows you to slip away for an hour, and, if you ask me, an hour to yourself is a great gift.  This one happens to be handed right to you, quite personally, from Feist herself.