Keren Ann - Not Going Anywhere
I’m not sure whether to smile or tremble in fear while listening to Keren Ann’s Not Going Anywhere. Somewhere out of a Grimm’s fairytale comes this creepy, yet foreignly beautiful illustration as this bewitching singer/songwriter composes her dreamy collection of French pop pinched with a dash of ballroom folk for her first US release. The results are a Dido-esque equivalence, albeit a bit soft as Keren sings with one of the most tranquil and seducing voices I have ever heard.
She’s a gifted, if discontented storyteller traveling from one song to the next as if it’s just another page in her skittish, rhythmic tale. The title track is a slow dance of fateful lyrics amid a violin-driven chorus. It’s a moody opening for the unsettling bell chime in “Polly,” supported by an inspiring trumpet finale, a salute you might say, as she trudges on. In “Road Bin” she grooves to her idea of dangerous love in a bluesy tune with lines like “does it have to be from far away / when you love me till you’re bones / do we always have to hide away / in a road bin full of stones.” Floating along to the troubling “End of May” we encounter a ghostly visage of dark imagery, complete with a hypnotic choir for this conjuring account.
Taking a break from the dreary and depressive, the album veers into some witty character with the playful and infectious chamber chorus of “Sailor & Widow” and the swooning, surf induced “Sit in the Sun.” Both are in good placement for the aural opus, “Right Now & Right Here.” Shimmering with a jazzy piano beat and tender lyrics, her breathy voice is absolutely appealing, capped with ocean waves upon unexpected string and choir arrangements. It’s truly awe-inspiring, as it takes my breath to the last note. While the strings and horns in the cinematic “Seventeen” and “Spanish Song Bird” each seem to come from the soundtrack of an old black and white movie (I’m thinking Roman Holiday). They’re an easy waltz and step as we return to earlier chapters with the mellow “By the Cathedral” and finish with the eerily repetitive “Ending Song,” in which she sings, “funny day, no one is here / in the morning rain, there are no clouds / and I hear… follow me.”
The French residing Keren Ann Zeidel (her full name) shoots for the moon and lands on the sun. This avant-garde siren channels evocative storytelling with a talent for penning spooky lullabies. It’s a surreal treat.
