PJ Harvey - Let England Shake

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I have had a long-time crush on PJ Harvey and her music. In fact, once I get started, it's hard for me to shut the fuck up about how wonderful she is. The reasons PJ sits high, like a dominant queen, on my list of favorite artists are numerous: she's a raven-haired slink, a sexy cool lady with a huge mouth and a siren-call voice to match it, her equally self-effacing and empowered lyrics pull no punches, her employment of chunky guitar chords that constantly fold in on themselves is addictive, her shift from punk to blues to spindly folk is effortless, her everything, everything, everything.

It's not to say, in actuality, she's perfect and I just gobble up anything she dishes out, however. I've never quite understood the major wank-fest behind her third album, To Bring You My Love, an odyssey into an unscrupulous jazz/blues hybridization - all with a bit of dirty electronica thrown in to little avail. "Meet Za Monsta" is an interesting song, but it's not enough to save the experience. I've had similar feelings when listening to Harvey's work with John Parish. There's just not enough satisfaction in the songs or the concept, not enough pure PJ for my tastes.

So PJ can certainly do wrong in my precious ears, but it ain't likely. Her latest album, Let England Shake, ain't too wrong at all. It's a simultaneous send-up, sorrowful critique and love letter written to her homeland and, in particular, its troubled history. The album sounds like you are traversing the halls of an extravagant palace - the constant, echoing guitar like pristine white marble strewn across and throughout. Harvey is the downtrodden, wilting countess, showing you around sun-soaked courtyards and stately, gold-fringed rooms to paintings of England's proud loves, shamed atrocities, gorgeous landscapes and fervent loyalties. It's a distinct mixture of beauty and disgrace, and ultimately new political territory for Harvey to tread.

On the brass-punctuated, "The Last Living Rose", Harvey sings out matter-of-factly, "god damn Europeans/take me back to beautiful England", then goes on to describe her country with both wit and morbid effervescence, "and the grey, damp filthiness of ages/and battered books and/fog rolling down behind the mountains/on the graveyards and dead sea captains". Set to a translucent, rolling guitar strum, she mourns the terrors of war on "The Words that Maketh Murder", in the high-pitched moan she first adopted on White Chalk, singing, "I've seen and done things I want to forget/I've seen soldiers fall like lumps of meat" and "coming from an unearthly place/longing to see a woman's face/instead of the words that gather pace/the words that maketh murder".

Let England Shake is full of brutal irony and earnest misery, but Harvey does her best to keep things flowing, mainly by turning her history lessons into live demonstrations. The flow does taper a bit in the middle, especially during "On Battleship Hill" and "England", however, PJ's got a cure waiting around the corner with the intense guitar slide of "Bitter Branches" and the delicate piano ballad, "Hanging in the Wire".

Let England Shake is something that is obviously near and dear to Harvey. In an interview, she claimed that until recently she had never been confident enough to write politics and history into her lyrics, but had always wanted to. Perhaps now that she is older and has vented many of her past proximal demons, her liberation is complete. However, the evolution from deeply personal, raw narratives to expansive folk songs is definitely a major shift. Those who stick firmly to her ragged blue soul may find the album pretentious and beyond scope, but those who are willing to ride along on her artistic journey can find a lot to love about Let England Shake.

Charlotte Gainsbourg - Stage Whisper

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Although Charlotte Gainsbourg has increasingly embraced the world of acting in recent years, she still finds time to reconnect with her showbiz roots and, subsequently, cuts a fresh music album here and there. Gainsbourg isn't necessarily the brains behind these endeavors, but she does apply her trademark hush-tones to music orchestrated and arranged by more indie rock stars than you can shake a bag of glass at, including Jarvis Cocker, Air and Beck.

Her latest album, Stage Whisper, is actually left overs from her previous record, IRM, which was largely the baby of Mr. Two Turn-Tables himself. It's particularly ironic in my mind, because I felt the material on IRM was uninspired, sloppy and too crazy grab-bag eclectic for its own good. Stage Whisper seems much more concise and in control of it's destiny - almost as if someone grabbed Beck by the shoulders and said, "STOP IT", loudly, right into his deadpan face.

Stage Whisper has far more stark definition to it, roaming from burning midnight discotheques to old, crumbling ballet and opera halls full of reverb. Gone is the lackadaisical baroque electronica of IRM, and in comes its darker, bittersweet sister. I would actually even go so far as to compare this "odds and ends are better than the prime cuts" idea to Radiohead's Kid A and Amnesiac. Most folks tend to get all rah-rah for Kid A automatically, but I've always found myself drawn closer to the trickled down bits of Amnesiac. It's definitely not as cohesive as its better-received comrade, but there is this exciting, palpable disjointedness that makes the album so much more interesting. So, while Stage Whisper may be full of second-string rejects, the underdog factor prevails, and the album is far more of a triumph.

You don't need to sweep your flashlight down the album's darkened ballet halls for long to discover irresistible trinkets like "Terrible Angels" with it's grimy pulsations and the nocturnal, inverted funk of "Paradisco". "All the Rain" tosses in some reverbed drums and ambient synthesizers, Gainsbourg's mouse-like delivery simultaneously providing a strange comfort and disturbance, like a bi-polar ghost, forever haunting decrepit passageways and stairwells of a once beautiful venue.

Of course, when the first chiming tones of "Got to Let Go" march into your ears, then you know you've discovered the long lost heart of the old hall. The luminous white-lit space of the song is a portal directly to the deeply felt rigors of remorse and acceptance. Gainbourg laments delicately, "you've got to be strong when they call it a day/got to realize when there's nothing left to say," then quietly dissolves with a wavering resignation, "good things come and go/one day you will know/you've got to let go". These aren't particularly deep lyrics but there is a profundity and smiling sense of loss to be found - the way the '80s keys tap along, the tight, echoed drum machine snaps and the singer's vibrantly diminutive vocals coalesce - there is real love in this song. Add to it a striking duet with singer Charles Fink, and you've got a fantastic little number dedicated to the heartbroken, the scorned, the neglected, the weary and everything in between.

I'd say the only thing this very solid album suffers from is a short track-listing. There are only 8 previously unreleased tracks on the album, the rest consists of throw-away live performances and remixes. You'll find that the proper portion of Stage Whisper is gone within a few short breaths and few flutters of the eyelashes. But the impact remains. The ghost has passed through you, in all of her make-shift tragedy and though she may never be at the forefront of your passions, she will always be around when you need her.