Lisa Germano
Slide
[4AD]
Rating: 7.6
I am in the musty storage bow of a sailless schooner on the murky waters of the
river Styx. This is the boat that carries indie folk stars to the Other Side.
The Grim Reaper smells like moth balls and points a medicarpal to a rotting piano.
I press my cheek against the cobwebbed piano hood. A crakling tape loop echoes
from deep within. I jerk my head up with fear and curiosity. The Reaper gestures
for me to continue listening. "Lisa Germano," he growls in a voice like tearing
sandpaper. "You like."
Haunting sounds caress my ears. My face goes numb and cold. The sounds emitting
from inside the piano mimic organ- grinder trip- hop from the streets of Edgar Allan
Poe's Baltimore. Backwards accordion loops, exotic drums from the edges of the
Queen's Empire, the ghost of Liz Phair's guitar, and chiming pianos from under the
floorboards fade in and out of a seashell's psuedo- ocean. The music is moody and
intoxicating. Take an absinthe into the study and put Slide on the Victrola.
Over a muted piano line I hear Lisa weeping the lyrics to "Wood Floors." A tear
wells up in the carved eye of a wood statuette with flaking, faded paint on the
point of the piano. My spine shivers.
I wake up with drool on my chin and headphones digging into temple. Thankfully
there is no Grim Reaper. Germano's Slide is undeniably a headphone album
and a masterwork of spooky production. Lisa is consistently beautiful without being
overly poppy. Unless you take "poppy" to mean the mind- chilling ether of Oz's
poppy field. Slide creeps deep into your bones and is an undead journey
filled with grace and emotion.
-Brent DiCrescenzo