As someone who has maintained their dubious disposition about the attention Vanessa Carlton and her major label debut,
Be Not Nobody, received, to find myself charmed by her sophomore release's first single was certainly, to put it mildly, a surprise. To this day I can not feel anything but overwhelming annoyance when "A Thousand Miles" or "Pretty Baby" cross my path, but "White Houses" quite efficiently erases any negative connotation with Carlton that her past hits have previously fueled. That single, a sweet, sprightly jewel infused with both the wide-eyed excitement and lingering heartache of a young ballet career cut short, manages to wallop you with its authenticity. Though her following efforts don't always match this song's achievement, it makes for one heck of a way to kick off the album. What's quickly become Carlton's trademark, a piano and strings accompaniment, is out in full force on
Harmonium, accenting her rudimentary tales of love and life with a rich, classically-inspired backdrop. On "San Francisco," there's conflict in Carlton's voice, sounding enraptured with the atmosphere of the city but simultaneously apprehensive about her current relationship. Elsewhere, "Who's to Say" is endearing in its earnest innocence and the layered insomnia-inspired ditty "Private Radio" supplies some much needed upbeat energy. The more difficult material is saved for later, when the piano recital keys and naïvety of first love give way to cold, cutting daydreams of death and self-destruction. Carlton's hammering away on the driving "Papa" and piano-less "C'est la Vie" isn't exactly pretty, but it's in their sparse harshness that her point gets across. "Half a Week Before the Winter," with its abstruse narrative that casts unicorns and vampires in its starring roles, is one of the album's most instantly engaging tracks. Another of
Harmonium's highlights is the spiraling "She Floats," which culminates in some unexpected and effective screams, while the brief hidden closing track "The Wreckage" is sure to make more than a few "Ordinary Day" fans squirm:
Speeding into the horizon
Dreaming of the sirens
Wishing for broken glass on a highway
It could be so easy.
Harmonium is a large artistic leap forward for Carlton, but also displays a reoccurring problem: while the atmosphere is commonly pulled off convincingly, her words are often struggling to catch up with their musically lush surroundings. With songs as awkward as youthful diary entries sitting beside others that exhibit an intelligent lyrical maturity, it leaves a bit of a disjointed impression. Thankfully her strongest moments appear regularly enough to prove there's no fluke at work here. For confirmation, look no further than the heartbreaking "Annie," where everything aligns and Carlton's storytelling is poignant and smooth. Harmonium is far from perfect, but should be enough to make a believer out of more than one formerly unimpressed listener.
