Before Buddy Holly made the singer- songwriter phenomenon plausible, the music industry had a clear distinction between songwriters and performers. In many cases, there was a reason for this. Cole Porter couldn't sing, but Frank Sinatra could.

Diane Izzo would fall into the songwriter category. On her record, One, she reveals a talent for writing a beautiful melody and a gift for blending different sounds and structures into elegant works of art. For instance, a madolin gives a zydeco feel to "Venice," while the next song, "Wicked," buries a reverbed tape loop into the mix to give a trip-hop feel. That's followed up with the album's title track on which producer Brad Wood (in a contrast to the minimalist style he used to produce Liz Phair's Exile in Guyville) engineers Izzo's guitar to give a sitar- like sound. Later, Izzo offers "Lavender Street," a song with more of a Tin Pan Alley, lighthearted feel. These contrasts of style never conflict or sound out of place. Izzo herself is a highly competent guitarist, unlike Phair (whose guitar work often makes the Shaggs sound like the Beatles).

Lyrically, Izzo's songs fall somewhere between the commercialism of Alanis Morissette and the blunt explicitness of Phair. The song "The Real One" contains interesting imagery about a false idol, but it's hard to determine what she's writing about. "Fire" rages with passion and compels, but fails to take any chances, making the song ultimately uninteresting. Izzo's anger never turns into unbridled rage, her passion never becomes consuming. She takes us to the edge of her emotions, but never allows us to peer over the edge.

But her voice... oh, her voice. Izzo is not afraid to let it succumb to emotion. Sometimes this is okay, but usually this tendency reveals that her voice is a great shortcoming for her. Think about your voice when you're singing along to the radio in the car. Songs like "The Real One" and "Polyphonic" are almost painful to listen to because Izzo doesn't seem to be aware when her voice has reached its limits. Imagine P.J. Harvey if she was a berzerker-- completely unrestrained and out of control. That would be Diane Izzo's voice. She often degrades into nasal grunts and heavy breathing, making her lyrics unintelligible. There's no mystery why they were included with the liner notes; the record company wanted you to know what the hell she was saying. Do not wear headphones while listening to this, lest your ears start bleeding.

The quality of the music and the songs are enough to make this record a worthwhile addition to the collection. However, Izzo needs to do something about that voice. Either hire singers to sing the songs, or take vocal lessons. If enough people buy the record, maybe she could afford them.

-Duane Ambroz