Usually when someone says "this is not for me," they are being kind, and saying that even though they personally don't necessarily like it, that doesn't rule out the fact that other people might like it in their own subjective way. Usually, when someone says "I don't get it," they are admitting defeat, and acknowledging that the world is large and that they can't possibly know everything about music, and so why even bother this week, i.e. just another week of Record Club in an endless string of Record Club weeks. Usually, when someone says "this music is bad," they are speaking into a mirror, even if they don't see it, a subconscious dig at the listener him/her/themself, music only being bad if the ears that hear them are bad. Usually.
But my first three reactions to hearing Emmy Rossum's 2007 Inside Out were, in order: "this is not for me," "I don't get it," and "this music is bad."
My fourth reaction was to wonder how hard I should go in my negative review. I don't think it's deserving of evisceration. It's bad and I don't get it and it's not for me, but also, I almost respect it for how insanely left-of-center the whole endeavor is. This is ballsy. Every fucking aspiring actress can go out there and make some cheap flimsy pop album with an army of hired hands if they want to. A young Emmy Rossum, freshly 21 years old, went into the studio and made a fucking new age album. Who does that?!
I don't even know that I'd call this "music." By its literal definition, maybe. But Inside Out is more like... an experience. It's the default playlist in the sensory deprivation tank. You can't listen to it so much as you can let it wash over you, ghostly and whispery sounds rising and sinking at random, Rossum's voice singing like it's trying to contact you through a time portal or haunted mirror or something. I'm not saying any of this is a good thing, or even a bad thing, these are just facts. I've never purposefully listened to music like this before. I've heard it, sure, like maybe right before I'm about to get a massage. But, like my previous massage experiences, Inside Out provides no happy ending.
The songs that include instrumentation beyond Emmy Rossum's voice work better, I think, though just barely. Something like "Falling" at least has a drum machine to keep things grounded a little bit. Songs like "The Great Divide" less so, with it's ghostly extended organ note and not much else besides the voice. Then there's "Slow Me Down," in which Rossum channels her inner Bobby McFerrin and goes full a cappella, which is just freaky, honestly. Non-vocal instruments or not, nothing can stop the whole thing from feeling like there is a whole chorus of Emmy Rossums surrounding me. Is this what dying feels like? Will some actress from a dumb show I refuse to watch multiply and serenade me as I float into heaven?
You can note that the three song examples I used in the preceding paragraph are from the first half of the album. That's both my fault and not. I've listened to Inside Out more times this week than possibly any human on earth save for Emmy Rossum's mother, and I can tell you that every single time I start, I think, "Wow, okay, maybe it's starting to sound interesting at this point," but then I get to like track 6 ("Lullaby"), and I start to zone out. Inside Out is interesting as an idea, I think—new age dream pop for the next generation!—but the idea cannot sustain itself for an entire album. It's funny for like two minutes, and then it curdles into something repellent, and eventually flattens out and becomes boring. I don't think it's a coincidence that Rossum's only other album, Sentimental Journey, is a collection of cover songs from the 1940s. Dreamy new age sounds is not a winning idea.
Still, it's inoffensive, so at least there's that. There have been albums in Record Club that are bad but also have ulterior motives, and Inside Out isn't that. It's just a young triple threat stretching out her singing chops right before she hits it big on a prestige paid-cable comedy. Fine. I bear no ill will. I just don't get it. And it's not for me. And I think the music is bad.
You can note that the three song examples I used in the preceding paragraph are from the first half of the album. That's both my fault and not. I've listened to Inside Out more times this week than possibly any human on earth save for Emmy Rossum's mother, and I can tell you that every single time I start, I think, "Wow, okay, maybe it's starting to sound interesting at this point," but then I get to like track 6 ("Lullaby"), and I start to zone out. Inside Out is interesting as an idea, I think—new age dream pop for the next generation!—but the idea cannot sustain itself for an entire album. It's funny for like two minutes, and then it curdles into something repellent, and eventually flattens out and becomes boring. I don't think it's a coincidence that Rossum's only other album, Sentimental Journey, is a collection of cover songs from the 1940s. Dreamy new age sounds is not a winning idea.
Still, it's inoffensive, so at least there's that. There have been albums in Record Club that are bad but also have ulterior motives, and Inside Out isn't that. It's just a young triple threat stretching out her singing chops right before she hits it big on a prestige paid-cable comedy. Fine. I bear no ill will. I just don't get it. And it's not for me. And I think the music is bad.
GRADE: 1 puke out of 5
P.S. when Sean says that he was "googling random things" when he stumbled upon Emmy Rossum's music, I think we can all safely assume what those "random" things were.
P.S. when Sean says that he was "googling random things" when he stumbled upon Emmy Rossum's music, I think we can all safely assume what those "random" things were.
2 comments:
Sean stands accused of being horny online.
Sounds like PoYB's production of The Crucible.
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