It’s interesting to me how choices I made as a child continue to shape my perceptions to this very day. Some examples include: Han Solo is cooler than Luke Skywalker, John Lennon is cooler than Paul McCartney, and cheese pizza is a waste of time. But what has astonished me lately is that some of my childhood prejudices have changed. Call it growth, maturation, or boredom with my personal status quo. Regardless of the motive, my tastes (sometimes without my consent) continue to change.
An excellent example of this change in attitude tracks its origin to Sesame Street, of all places. As a child, I had a cassette tape (!) featuring songs made popular by the show. Hits included “Rubber Duckie,” “Bein’ Green,” and “C is for Cookie.” But one of my least favorite songs from that tape was the Carpenters’ version of “Sing.” It struck me as being very sad even though it was supposed to be an upbeat number and my six-year-old self didn’t like the fact (according to my childhood awareness) that songs could make me feel sad. It was only later that I discovered why that song made me sad and why feeling sad at the hands of a pop song can be a good thing.
Which brings me to Rumer, who seems to have graduated from the Karen Carpenter School of Beautiful Yet Sad Vocal Performance. And not only do I love her album, Seasons of My Soul, but I also intend it’s comparison to Karen Carpenter to be of the highest respect and virtue. The record itself isn’t trendsetting or groundbreaking, but it definitely fulfills certain requirements for being a quality piece of work. Such songs as “Slow” and “Take Me as I Am” demonstrate a deft handling of production and performance in order to evoke a certain smoky atmosphere that can either be intimate and passionate or isolated and somewhat painful. Of course, a listener’s mood dictates whatever reaction may follow.
The balanced nature of the tracks (sensuous but not over-bearing, well-produced but not glossy, emotive yet not syrupy) contributes mightily to the myriad ways this album can be enjoyed. One might play the album as a nice and unencumbering soundtrack for a romantic dinner or listen to it alone during a rainy day while curling up with a book and tea. For some discerning listeners, the album might lose their interest toward the middle and begin to sound monotonous and indistinguishable. But I would counter that with the argument that this actually lends itself well to the atmosphere an album of this nature creates. Finally, this type of album allows this listener to wander in and out of the album leaving room for further exploration with each listen.