21

     London-born singer and songwriter, Adele came into popularity in 2008 after dropping her first single, “Chasing Pavements,” and later first studio album, 19. Not even three years later her next album, 21, saw major success, and multiple tracks emerged as number one hits. The dynamics in the British star’s second album sporadically bounce around between depressing ballads and fiery jams. This contributes little to the collection’s overall quality besides proving Adele to be a chameleon who can kill any style that comes her way. Nevertheless, the artist breaks the mold of classic love songs by creating a melting pot of different genres, while still being able to stay under the R&B umbrella that listeners witnessed in 19. In an interview, Adele credited her mother with exposing her to beloved artists and inspiration such as Mary J. Blige, Lauryn Hill, and Etta James, which helps a bit to understand the album’s background. It is assumed that her fallout with ex-boyfriend and previous photographer, Alex Sturrock, is what inspired the album 21, but whatever the real story is behind these eleven songs, Adele never ceases to provide her audience with genuine confessions.

     The album opens with “Rolling in the Deep,” a low steady rumble of rock staples such as a bass guitar and an electric keyboard that crescendos into a bluesy, belting anthem of accusation and anger. The blues influence has been stretched thin by a heightened tempo and the drawn-out bellows in Adele’s vocals. Next, the backup vocals with gospel ties accelerate in “Rumor Has It” to create an energetic soulful tune. Packed with fist-pumping harmonies and stomping drum beats, this track becomes very Aretha Franklin-esque. The absence of classic jazz instrumentals is the only differing quality, causing Adele’s lyrics to naturally flow over any music breaks.

     A 180° twist is then made as a rolling piano introduces “Turning Tables.” Adele’s usual booming alto voice melts into layered riffs that just peak over the deep-seated strings. A heart wrenching struggle of the artist trying to build back her strength is quickly laid out before the listeners as well. The power of the album is diluted even more after “Turning Tables” when “Don’t You Remember” comes on. Oozing with the American country touch of Oklahoman co-songwriter and producer, Ryan Tedder, the attempt at tender simplicity falls just short of a cliché prom song. The average bass guitar and drums combo tears Adele down, as she settles for crafting a yawn-worthy whine of retrospect and longing. The repetitive, extended notes of the chorus have the song reminding me of what I would expect to hear in a stripped down version of Whitney Houston or Celine Dion classic, thus exhausting my interest very quickly.

     Luckily, the modern pop harmony in “Set Fire to the Rain’s” picks things back up. Starting with a piano base once again, in this track percussions erupt and chase after Adele’s staccato, controlled verses. The artist’s old soul is upgraded, but not hidden, by modern beats and dramatic production elements to form a catchy hit about letting the person go for your own health and sanity.

     “He Won’t Go” is one of the subtler songs, but Adele’s silky voice does grow with confidence over the course of the recording. An unexpected harp is backed by a cool jazzy groove, radiating an authentic, vintage feel.  Following this, Adele’s extensive, raw vocal range is revealed right off the bat in “Take It All.” Accompanied by a background piano, the artist’s approach is very reminiscent of Alicia Key’s R&B collection. The natural intricacies in Adele’s tone are perfectly complimented by just one instrument, and the return of backup gospel vocals make for a calming lullaby-like testimony of what it’s like to give up on love. In “I’ll Be Waiting,” brass instruments solidify the song as the most jazz inspired off the album. Additionally, an extra sultry quality in Adele’s voice emits an Amy Winehouse aura, an artist who also shares a similar English soul music background. The next track “One and Only” is too similar to “Take It All” in my eyes because I continue to mix up the two despite listening to the album numerous times. Essentially it’s a slow-building tragedy that does manage to paint a charming scene of something along the lines of a 19^th century couple effortlessly executing the waltz dance.

     Adele’s second to last song on 21 is a cover of The Cure’s “Lovesong” from 1989. While deviating far from the alternative rock hit’s original version, the artist also distances herself far from the rest of her work by featuring this track. The acoustic instrumentation has a Latin flare that makes the song not easily sorted under any specific genre. Though the blues roots never come into play, Adele’s method for interpreting the Cure’s lyrics overflows with her soulful rhythm and gooey, in-the-pocket pitches. Last but not least, “Someone Like You” concludes the album; a well-known song that has been used in countless parodies about stereotypical rough breakups (including Emma Stone’s commendable performance on Saturday Night Live). An undeniable pop song, Adele manages to keep an air of sophistication and class, a la John Legend. The solo piano fluctuates its tempo throughout, however, a definitive beat never surfaces like most hits we are trampled with on the radio today.

     In the age of contemporary rhythm and blues, this branch of music typically constitutes electronic elements or automated sounds. Adele on the other hand, implements the preceding R&B qualities of jazz, gospel, and soul into her second album. With her retro melodies, classical instrument use, and smoky voice, Adele draws the connection to past legends in the R&B realm like James Brown or Marvin Gaye. However, Adele’s experiences cross-country traveling in the United States as she promoted her first album, 19, inclined the artist to double dip into a variety of styles for 21, from bluegrass and country to hip hop and rock. Although the ordering of the tracks on the album can come off a little disjointed by switching between extremes of energy levels, the artist daringly conglomerates distinct music techniques together, manipulates and morphs the pieces, and filters them to fit into her individualized artistic puzzle. Since 21 is only her second album, Adele has the freedom and ease to continue to create a name for herself and test the waters of the direction she wants to take her so-far successful career. The songs with minimal embellishments stick out next to the high-spirited outbursts, however, the contrast matches the artist’s feelings in the aftermath that jump from bitterness, to devotion, to resilience, to caution.

     Looking at the thematic angle of 21, Adele explores many of the different emotions and reactions to a difficult romantic separation, like the majority of breakup albums. In contrast however, the artist removes herself from the typical downward spiral of each song grieving more and more over the ex-lover. Instead Adele also proclaims a lot of reflective thoughts about her own personal story independent of the former partner, especially in “Take It All” where she sings, “I will change if I must. // Slow it down and bring it home, I will adjust.” Additionally, in “Don’t You Remember” Adele admits she has “a fickle heart and a bitterness, // And a wandering eye, and a heaviness in [her] head.” The entire collection of 21 addresses her relationship in the context of cause and effect with other spheres of her life; Adele’s experiences of maturing and entering the adult world hidden in the shadows of the romantic conflict. Just as her first album was titled 19 because it was a snapshot of what was happening to the artist at that age, 21 represents a different stage in Adele’s life illuminating the changes she has undergone in the past couple of years. It is evident that the singer carefully carved her heart into this album and bravely committed to vulnerability, making 21 deserve to be considered as more than just another breakup album lost in translation, despite having a few inconsistencies sprinkled here and there.

The First Days of Spring

     I consider Noah & The Whale my hidden gem. Our intimacy reached the point where I became jealous and overprotective if I hear someone talking about the band, despite their popularity. However, as much as it kills me, I admit I hadn’t listened to every song from The First Days of Spring when first deciding to review the album. I tend to be a track listener, discovering music song by song and neglecting the larger work. Already this process has opened my eyes to the cohesive, flowing storyline that songs purposely paired together on an album can form.

     The First Days of Spring especially forms a storyline, which listeners can see play out in a 45-minute film also titled, The First Days of Spring. Lead singer, Charlie Fink created a narrative of stills and video while using only the album as sound, enhancing the audience’s overall emotional understanding. There’s much to be said about the beautiful effect of songs meshing with a visual plot; however, I must focus on the music to stick to my blog’s purpose. If you do wish to check out the film, I posted a link at the bottom of this page. Whether or not you enjoy the album, everyone should appreciate Fink for deviating from the typical process of a musician and applaud his success as a storyteller.

     Even without watching the movie, the album’s lyrics unmask the end of a relationship. That relationship belongs to Charlie Fink and his ex-girlfriend Laura Marling, a singer-songwriter and previous band member of Noah & the Whale. The opening track, named “The First Days of Spring,” had me expecting a light, upbeat mood coinciding with my yearly reaction to emerging from the cold, barren, and merciless winter onto a vibrant world. After listening, I find Fink does refer to spring in the context of new beginnings: “my life is starting over again.” However, fresh starts don’t necessarily mean better ones. A simple duo of guitar and violin allows listeners to zero in on the lyrics as he continues: “For I’m still here hoping, that one day you may come back.” This first song accomplishes its job of introducing the heartbreak up front. Still, all hope is not lost because as nature grows so does Fink with a goal of returning to the person his girl “used to love.”

     Upon listening to “Our Window,” I feel betrayed and deceived. The first track was just a false fantasy, meant to ease listeners into the real state of this broken relationship. Fink’s voice in “Our Window” shifts into desperation and solemnity mixed with eerie, gentle piano keys and a heavy bass guitar. Spring has become “cruel,” and the couple knows they can’t go on anymore. The next two songs demonstrate post-breakup stages. “I Have Nothing” begins with the plink of rain drops and a swaying melody, sending me to a melancholy setting with a bench swing, a back porch, and a stormy night. The depressing lyrics arrive with a numb Charlie Fink, whining that he has and loves nothing and no one anymore. Then, “My Broken Heart,” makes an abrupt flip to the acceptance stage. A song that toes the line between folk, smooth jazz, and rock with its mashup of instruments, Fink sings, “there’s nothing you can do// I’m impenetrable to pain.”

     This album interests me with its rigid structure, separated into two mirroring sections. The ordering starts with four songs, followed by “Instrumental I,” “Love Of An Orchestra” as a climax, then “Instrumental II,” and another four songs as the second bookend. “Love Of An Orchestra” begins with a belting church choir, making me think Spotify had randomly switched albums all of the sudden. The backup vocals continue through the song and are met with upbeat strings, making Charlie Fink’s voice unrecognizable. Personally I don’t understand why the band included a song that urges me to stand up and do a goofy jig while its message remains somber with, “if you gotta run, run from hope.” Perhaps “Love Of An Orchestra” illustrates the wonderful moment when you decide to throw the towel in, let go of all your cares or worries about love, and rock out to some gospel music.

     The album’s second half is downhill from there. Actually in terms of quality, I would say that the second half is uphill from “Love Of An Orchestra” because Fink returns to his easy, relaxed sound that is less of a production and more of a therapy. However, regarding the artist’s projected feelings and mood, Fink settles down from his weird, overexcited breakdown of built-up frustration to become miserable and reflective once more.

Here’s a quick breakdown:

“Instrumental II:” A camera zooms out of the busy church scene (Love Of An Orchestra) as the ringing of bells and chimes evaporate. We are transported to watching Charlie Fink all alone again.

“Stranger:” Heavy beats filled with Fink’s regret of sleeping with someone else to move on.

“Blue Skies:” Fink admits his love for Marling hasn’t faded, but a crescendo of welcoming drums, a perky piano, and soft guitars have him predicting someday maybe it will.

“Slow Glass:” Fink states he was the victim in the breakup as Marling left him “stabbed and bleeding.”

“My Door is Always Open:” Fink essentially saying, “Thank goodness it’s all over, but hey, no hard feelings Laura. I’m just going to get back to chilling and strumming my guitar again.”

     For those who cannot sit long enough to read an entire review, I’ll help you out: this album has a consistent cloudy day mood minus the sporadic Hallelujah! moment in the middle. If you’re looking for a breakup album to dry your tears with a sugarcoated forecast of what’s to come, search elsewhere. Charlie Fink’s music doesn’t overflow with pain to the point where you pity him. It invites you into an honest journal of loss and remorse and lets you know it’s okay to wallow in your sorrow before picking yourself back up.

   

     

The First Days of Spring - A Film By Noah And The Whale from charlie fink on Vimeo.
https://vimeo.com/7799870