While you were away
Country pop pioneer Shania Twain is back after a 15 year hiatus, but the songs still sound the same
Canadian diva Shania Twain dominated the slick country pop market back when Taylor Swift was still toddling. Returning with her first new album in 15 years, one cannot grudge her hanging on to this territory when she could – and arguably should – long have outgrown it. Twain has fought hard for her comeback. Following her divorce from producer and co-writer Mutt Lange, she is flying solo this time with her first entirely self-penned set and has literally had to find her voice again following a bout of dysphonia, a disorder of the vocal folds which is a singer’s worst nightmare.
Having effectively relearned to sing, Twain notes her voice has changed irrevocably – under the slick swathes of production here, the layman would hardly notice the join.
If anything, Twain sounds as youthful and liberated as ever on the hip-pop likes of More Fun .She contends that Now is not her divorce album, although what else to make of the trepidatious ballad I’m Alright or the line “I had to believe that things would get better, it was time to forget
you – forever” on comeback single
Life’s About To Get Good?
She addresses her anxieties about returning to the spotlight on the brash reggae-tinged pop of Swingin’
With My Eyes Closed, captures a sense of longing on album highlight
Who’s Gonna Be Your Girl, digs her heels in on marginally rockier number Roll Me On The River and takes a well-thumbed leaf out of the Beyoncé and Amy Winehouse handbooks with the sanitised Motown groove of You Can’t Buy
Love. Having diluted country music for mass pop consumption 20 years ago, Twain is now virtually indistinguishable from the efficient pop queens who emerged in her wake.
Adam Holmes & The Embers follow up the wonderful Brighter Still with an ambitious bedroom recording featuring mandolin, bouzouki, glockenspiel, horn section and the massed soulful strains of the Midnight Choir. That’s a lot of folks crammed into Holmes’ bedroom but it makes for a harmonious mix of folk, blues, soul, gospel and even a (mercifully) brief burst of rap.
Midnight Milk is a rather middle of the road collection but, thanks to the mellow Afrobeat of Don’t Worry, the blithe, twinkly gospel pop of
No Man Is An Island, the soothing reggae rhythm of Big Blue Sun and the calming devotional lullaby Can
You Feel The Fire Inside, it delivers on Holmes’ aim to generate an atmosphere of completeness and satisfaction. There is further holistic easy listening from the venerable David
Crosby who, having parted ways with Graham Nash for the umpteenth time, is on a fertile solo kick. The old warhorse claims to be tired of the news but still manages to address the issue of blood diamonds on
Sell Me A Diamond and electoral corruption on Capitol. Sky Trails was mostly co-written with his son James Raymond, who adds flamenco flourishes on Curved Air, while the recurring use of smooth soprano saxophone and beatific hippy harmonies creates a mellow Steely Dan vibe throughout.
TV fashionista Brix Smith-start, onetime guitar basher with The Fall, reunites with her former bandmates Steve and Paul Hanley in Brix & the
Extricated to create that winning mix of serrated punk, baleful garage swagger and muscular pop attitude which characterised many of the 90s grunge bands who were, in turn, influenced by The Fall. They reclaim Fall numbers Feeling Numb and Hotel
Bloedel for themselves and invoke the spirit of Smith’s post-fall outfit The Adult Net with the softer breathy indie pop of Moonrise Kingdom.
Shania Twain is now virtually indistinguishable from the efficient pop queens who emerged in her wake