I wish I could say that I have followed Leslie Feist’s career from the very beginning — because this would imply that I have impeccable taste and an ear for great music even when it is not critically acclaimed or famous. The truth is, the first time I heard the voice of Leslie Feist was when “1234” popped out of my TV during an iPod commercial. But I fell in love immediately, and what I lacked in long-term listenership I made up for in vigorous devotion. The fact that she is Canadian made me love her even more — the patriot in me, I suppose.
It has been four years since Feist released her last album, The Reminder. Finally on Oct. 4 Metals hit stores. I have to admit I went in with high hopes, and even higher expectations, but after a first listen, I didn’t like the album. Each song sat on my ears, as if my headphones weighed a thousand pounds. The title of the album is apt. Each song felt dense and impenetrable. I had done everything right: I had listened for every instrument, I had consciously attempted to track the lyrics, I had sought out the meaning of each song and found nothing. I confess, I felt let down.
But then I listened to the album again. Defeated, I allowed the music to flow over me. By the third time the album had cycled, something shifted. The solid exterior had melted away, and I felt the magic of Feist that had first seduced me on television.
That said, Metals is a very different album from The Reminder. The lighthearted, upbeat songs like “1234” are nowhere to be found. Nothing on this album screams crowd-pleaser. There is something deeper at work here. The album opens powerfully with “The Bad in Each Other.” This is the one song I caught myself singing aloud in my basement, at the top of my range-less lungs.
Natural images — something Feist has said to be part of the inspiration for Metals — saturate the music. There are moments when I feel as if I am staring at an unattainable depth, at the breathless immensity of mountains, or the impossible horizon that refuses to stop above the ocean. This is captured best in “A Commotion,” where the brass is heavy and intense, with a chorus of shouting male voices.
The next song on the album, “The Circle Married the Line,” changes tone. Feist’s voice rises and falls effortlessly, carrying the song in a beautiful way.
“Cicadas and Gulls,” easily my favorite track on the album, is so gentle with only a guitar and a few backup vocals; the easy loveliness of Feist’s lyrics can be stunning, as is also exampled in the song “Comfort Me.”
Every moment of Metals is beautiful, but at the end of the album everything, the imagery, the horns, the percussion, and her one-of-a-kind voice, it all settles to the bottom. Nothing pops up, nothing sparkles, nothing rises to the surface. Perhaps I was just waiting for the album to take off, to turn into the The Reminder that was never meant to be. Everything feels comfortable and lovely but also un-spectacular.
3 1/2 stars out of 5
