- Music
- 15 Nov 04
Recorded during three days of self -enforced seclusion in autumn 1999 and sounding exactly as you might expect an album recorded in a basement probably bereft of natural light to sound, Ladies’ Love Oracle is melancholy, intimate and deliciously sad.
“Just me in the raw, me in the dark, me in the basement”. So says Grant-Lee Phillips, singer-songwriter-mastermind behind the former Grant Lee Buffalo, about his debut solo effort. Recorded during three days of self -enforced seclusion in autumn 1999 and sounding exactly as you might expect an album recorded in a basement probably bereft of natural light to sound, Ladies’ Love Oracle is melancholy, intimate and deliciously sad. Originally only available from his website and at gigs in 2000, it is now seeing the light of day as a proper release.
The weirdly titled opening track ‘You’re A Pony’ gets the record off to a dreamy, melancholy start, and following that it’s track after track of elegantly crafted singer songwriter stuff, all wispy breathed vocal melodies and guitar strummed like a man who has had his heart broken once too often. The pensive meditation of tracks like ‘Heavenly’ and the wistfully pessimistic ‘Don’t Look Down’ match lyric and melody perfectly for ultimate effectiveness. Using simple arrangements on the guitar, harmonica, piano, and whatever other instruments Phillips seems to have picked up while recording in producer-musician Jon Brion’s basement studio, the result is an intimate view into the soul of a gifted singer-songwriter.
Unfortunately, there is not a sign of that booming baritone displayed on earlier work with Grant Lee Buffalo, such as the 1993 debut Fuzzy. Why an artist blessed with a voice like his would choose not to use his full vocal range is as mysterious as it is agitating for anyone who is familiar with his earlier work. The other problem with Oracle is its speed. It has three of them: slow, slower, and really, really slow, which makes it a difficult listen without being in a particularly despondent mood. These songs are so delicate they’d likely break at the slightest touch, but handle them carefully and their aching melody will grow on you.