Rose Polenzani (2001 Daemon Records)

By Ellen Rawson

For more information: http://www.rosepolenzani.com

Anybody, Rose Polenzani's 1999 release, quickly established her as a singer-songwriter with a clear alternative edge.  Her self-titled second full-length CD finds her in a recording studio with a full band this time around. There's a slightly more polished feel to this disc, but Polenzani's inviting rough edges still abound.  There's a little less wavering in terms of vocal qualities, and the band, complete with electric guitars, eases off and fills in some of the wispy, sparse attributes found on Anybody.  It's not as if there are soaring changes, though. Polenzani's voice is confident, and her lyrics serve as examples of confessional poetry in song, albeit generally using someone else's confessions.

"Fell," the opening track, is an inviting entry to a world with narrators who lament their self-perceived limitations, emote their universal frustrations, and search for love while holding onto each and every strand of hope hanging in the balance.  Polenzani has stated that "Fell," a song about trying to find love and the feelings of loss when it isn't achieved, is her attempt to write a song with a real chorus. It's a radio-friendly success that might help Polenzani gain airplay and further recognition as it introduces listeners to her poetic lyrics.

Another song that might receive airplay, particularly on AAA-type stations, is "Bad Dreams."  Its quiet start, reminiscent of early Suzanne Vega, gradually builds to a slight salsa feel. The doubts its narrator expresses are negated after a good night's sleep. Is that resolution too simple?  Maybe, but it also builds on those all-encompassing night fears that often dissipate with the dawn.

Song lyrics often sound poetic when performed with guitars, keyboards, and other instruments railing in the background, but take away the harmonious accompaniment, and the words may become trite.  Their "poetry" is reduced to inconsequential statements and clichéd metaphors.  Polenzani's lines, however, have a chance of standing on their own.  Starting off with "Fell," she discusses how she "lit up to the tower when you were last asleep./With the pigeons and the cobwebs to cover/I kept my peace."  Even its chorus, generally the most pedestrian part to a popular song, maintains confessional poetry qualities:  "What do I know about love?/ I never could show myself./ I lay down my cloud-hung hopes/wherever the first ones fell." Okay, it's not Pulitzer Prize quality, but Polenzani's thought-provoking lyrics are far more than mere vehicles for melodies.

The sudden realization that Polenzani takes on personas and isn't always herself the narrator occurs with "The Flood" and its story told by a mother with a son, Danny; an unnamed daughter; and the noticeable lack of a husband/father.  When Danny tells his mother they survived the flood; her reaction is to comment "I feel spun like a feather, I am made of a piece/ of her and Danny, and it feels nice."  It's the ultimate feeling of motherhood, initially told against the

backdrop of gentle acoustic guitars and a piano. When the flood hits, Polenzani holds out notes, and the drums and electric guitars take over to create a momentary crescendo of cacophony.  "Polliwog's Lament" uses slide guitar and a blues style mixed with a steady alternative rock beat to create the story of a childless woman whose barrenness makes her question her own self worth.

The subject matter indeed does vary.  It may concern trying on different personas while searching for one's own ("Mary Lee") or looking back at a lost chance for love with the regret that comes from sharing the would-be lover's admission that she "was locked inside some right-wing family" ("Sacramento Avenue"). However, whether the songs are personal accounts, stories from other people's lives, or entirely fictional, they become real; they have the power to draw listeners into their depths.

Comparisons to a plethora of other artists are rapt with someone such as Polenzani who crosses genres and styles. (Her range moves from the punk "Orange Crush" to the rhythmic, chant-like "Whatever Remains.") Tori Amos, Suzanne Vega, P.J. Harvey, and Lucinda Williams all come to mind.  The problem with such comparisons, of course, is that this particular "new" artist isn't an imitation of any of those more established performers.  She's not going to stay nicely trapped as an echo of those people she occasionally resembles. This new CD allows Polenzani the chance to demonstrate what she can do with a band and continue heading further down the ever-widening path started with Anybody. Whether she remains on that path or chooses to ramble down one of its forks on future releases is up to her.  Whatever she decides, one fact is set already: It will be a non-derivative performance that is uniquely Polenzani.

©  FEMMUSIC 1999-2008

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