robyn hitchcock: jewels for sophia

If I had to choose one lyric to sum up Robyn Hitchcock's wonderful Jewels for Sophia, I wouldn't have to think for long. "Roquefort and gruyère and slippery brie/all of these cheeses they happen to me," from "The Cheese Alarm," does the job nicely. With this album, Hitchcock has further solidified his position as the court jester of psychedelic pop. The 13 songs cover the whole spectrum of his career—ranging from rollicking numbers like "Elizabeth Jade" to the quiet acoustics of "Mexican God." And, of course, everything inbetween.

Hitchcock, who hails from Britain, has a fascination with Americana; Audrey Hepburn, Robert DeNiro, Michael Stipe, and NASA are just a few of those who get lyrical nods. These cultural allusions come to a head in the album's should-be radio hit, Hitchcock's bouncy ode to the Pacific Northwest, "Viva! Sea-Tac" ("They've got the best computers and coffee and smack"), which was recorded in Seattle with Scott McCaughey and REM's Peter Buck.

The shout-along, stomp-along rockers catch your ear the most at first ("NASA Clapping" must kill in concert) and make up a large part of the album's charm. However, the soul of Jewels lies in the more sparsely arranged tracks that conjure up I Often Dream of Trains, his fragile and melancholy 1986 album. Whether it's the haunting atmosphere of "Dark Princess" and "Antwoman," or the heartache of "I Feel Beautiful" and "You've Got a Sweet Mouth on You, Baby," this is simply Hitchcock doing what he does best. And when he sings lines like, "I embraced you in my coffin and I haven't seen you since," even the most delicate songs are imbued with his trademark lyrical macabre absurdity.

But it wouldn't be a Robyn Hitchcock record otherwise, right? Somebody ring the cheese alarm! (Warner Bros.)

—Sam Engel

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