I'm troubled, I'm dissatisfied. I'm Irish! - Marianne Moore
Irish singer-songwriter Damien Rice has carried quite a weight the past four years. Ever since his debut release, O, in 2002, critics and fans have wondered how the tortured troubadour would follow up one of the most highly-regarded albums of the past five years.
“For me, it was like a challenge to make something that I felt was better than the first record,” Rice recently told KCRW’s Nic Harcourt. “It was annoying, as well, actually.”
Despite the pressure and expectations, Rice never seemed in a hurry to get his follow-up album finished, instead using his time to travel the world, play shows here and there and process his newfound fame. When we met Rice in 2003, he seemed a bit nonplussed by the attention and praise, and, at the time, we noted that we wouldn’t be surprised if we never heard from him again once the storm of praise for O eventually died.
Fortunately, we were wrong.
Rice returns to familiar territory with his new album 9, as he revels in the beauty and ache of the world with a vulnerability and passion unmatched since Jeff Buckley’s passing. 9 begins with Rice’s plaintive piano (an instrument featured predominantly on this album) and the angelic voice of Lisa Hannigan (who's not featured enough on the album), Rice’s vocal foil. After Rice joins Hannigan, the sounds of Vyvienne Long's cello creep in behind the vocals, providing a haunting tone to the rest of this frighteningly gorgeous song.
With "The Animals Were Gone" and "Dogs", Rice evokes the sounds of late 60's Laurel Canyon, putting on their heads domestic, pastoral tunes that speak to the complexity of maintaining coupled bliss. The Laurel Canyon comparison may not come as much of a surprise, as Rice spent a good deal of time over the past few years living with a friend at the foot of the hills surrounding Los Angeles. With "Elephant", a tune originally entitled "The Blower’s Daughter Part II", Rice returns to his familiar wailing, supported by an intense rhythmic strumming of his acoustic guitar. Reminiscent of his earlier work, the song grows from a whisper to an animal cry, as the full band joins in and takes the song to a crescendo of agony’s sweet release.
Rice extends beyond sad, bare tunes with "Me, My Yoke and I", as he growls angrily with condenser-modified voice, in a song that reverberates with a “sex-as-violence” inflection. The anger of the song will seem familiar to those who have heard Rice’s previous "Woman Like a Man".
Beyond the initial track, the hallmark of 9 may be the evocative, and clever, "Accidental Babies". As only he can, Rice sacralizes the vulgar with his chorus, that begins, “Do you cum, together ever with him?” The song is an entreaty to a former love to make a decision, while there is still time, between her latest love and the forlorn lost. “Is he dark enough? Enough to see your light?” Rice asks the imagined woman. Clearly, Rice is dark enough to see the light for us all and does the dirty work of plumbing the depths of his soul to bring back a few gems for us all to enjoy.
A cursory listen may leave many fans of Rice feeling slightly let down by this stripped-down effort, as the album lacks much of the poetry and dynamism that made O such a treasure. However, repeated listenings bring to light the soul of this album. It is another excellent effort from a beautiful artist who feels compelled to make only the music that moves his troubled soul.
Damien Rice Official
Damien Rice on "Morning Becomes Eclectic"
Damien Rice MySpace
Buy 9 here

Last Week Around the -ISTs


perfect timing for me! i was just listening to this record for the 1st time today! Accidental Babies is indeed a great song!