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Cat Power's Moon Pix
Despite the oodles of rock-press props bestowed on
Cat Power's last album, What Would the Community Think, this
muted, rather plodding record all but disappeared upon its release last
November. That is, until lead singer and songwriter Chan Marshall suffered what
appeared to be an extended nervous breakdown onstage at the Bowery Ballroom in
New York. There's nothing like a little bit of psychodrama to draw in all the
rubberneckers who bypassed Moon Pix on the first go-round.
Marshall reportedly sang part of the set at the Bowery while lying face-down
on the audience floor. The episode does cast a different light upon Marshall's
latest output. But the problem with Moon Pix is that, unlike the
constantly startling Community, you know everything you need to know
about each song about 10 seconds into the first verse.
Marshall builds upon the introductory elements of each tune--the overlapping
guitar arpeggios and double-tracked vocals of "Metal Heart" don't quite cohere,
creating unsettlingly beautiful dissonance--but never abandons them for others
or turns them upside down. Each song shares a similar arpeggiated melody, the
same drowsy tempo, the same dazed air. But the production is too crystal-clear
for these murky doings, and Marshall's voice sounds big and throaty but
resoundingly conventional, without the edges and cracks that gave character to
Community.
There's something muffled and tacked-down about Moon Pix, and news of
Marshall's public anguish leaves the potentially sympathetic listener in an
ironically optimistic position; maybe the excessive restraint and occasional
tedium reflect something more compelling than a mere creative slump. I imagine
Marshall lying face-down, singing the potentially saccharine lines, "Love is
always around/ Love will always love you" (from "Say"), and can only conclude
that the most compelling stuff on Moon Pix is the music you don't hear,
the things left unsaid. (Matador)
--Jessica Winter
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