Beth Orton
Central Reservation
[Deconstruction/Arista]
Rating: 8.9
If you set your clock by the Grammy awards like I do, you know that this
here is the Year of the Woman in the music industry. It said so in
Billboard, so it must be true. The problem with proclamations like
these is that the people announcing them are usually old, conservative and
less attuned to talent than your average Budweiser frog.
What we really saw in this year's Grammy voting was a sexist industry
overcorrecting for past wrongs. Lauryn Hill is a promising musician, but she
needs to find at least one lyric that's not patronizing and dull. Sheryl
Crow knows her blues as well as any jilted thirty- something, but she's too
banal for her own good. Madonna's eccentricities are no longer amusing, let
alone provocative-- she enlisted William Orbit, signature bleeps and all, for
her latest shot at latex immortality. But Beth Orton did it a year earlier on
a superior album, Trailer Park, that wasn't as immortal as it was
timeless. After that masterwork of translucent folk, you knew there was less room for
disappointment on the elegantly awkward Brit's follow-up than the typical
Beck album. Central Reservation lives up to expectations.
At its heart, Central Reservation differs little from Trailer
Park, but the difference is in the detail: the Beth we get this time
out is confident, if not assertive. When she sings of love pensively on
"Love Like Laughter" and painfully on "Stolen Car" (both of which feature
Ben Harper on electric guitar), she's more reflective than naive. When she
quivers through candlelit crooners like "Sweetest Decline" (with Dr. John on
piano) and the vibrant "Pass In Time" (with Terry Callier filling out the
chorus), she's singing London soul like only Dusty Springfield has before her.
When she teams up with Everything But the Girl's Ben Watt for two club tracks
("Stars All Seem to Weep" and the album's title cut), it's a natural fit because
Orton's subtle songcraft is universal.
It's a more mature Beth we get on Central Reservation, one who can
make you envy her heartbreak ("Blood Red River") and her joy ("Feel to
Believe") in equal measure. Her peers could learn from her, but chances
are they won't, because music this real can't be taught.
-Shan Fowler