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Thursday afternoon
You cast a shadow 'round my room
The breeze moved the curtains
And lifted my perfume into the air
And danced with lazy curls in your hair
The sun was in the sky like pink champagne
And it glistened in your eyes all day
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Regardless of what I'm working on, I generally enjoy the activity that is typing, and today my fingers just felt like going and going. My Doors series is officially on hiatus while I wait for Epinions to fix whatever is going one with the database right now-- I'm sure others have noticed that products have been losing their reviews on the surface. But who says I can't have a little something something on the sidelines? So I browsed through my music collection for a CD/vinyl/cassette that I've yet to review and is already in the music listings. There were many to choose from, but my current music desires always take a front seat. I haven't done my write up on Belinda Carlisle's Real; then again, I don't feel like listening to Real long enough to review it. In my collection, genres tend to scatter all over the place, and this time, it was difficult to focus my attention to just one release. Because I'm writing solely because I have the desire to write, I thought I'd choose an easier release to review, one which with I am very well familiar. After looking around the room for a bit, I settled on the debut release from easy going alternative band Edie Brickell & New Bohemians, a beatnik-based group that, though premiering in the 80s, did not garner mainstream success until the 90s. Shooting Rubberbands at the Stars is a consistently enjoyable pop album that features strumming guitars, infectious melodies, and poetic lyrics. The mood of this record seems to be the morning after-- it's very reflective.

Edie Brickell & New Bohemians are best known for their radio hit What I Am, a slightly pretentious declaration of individuality with a bouncy production and laid-back delivery. Though this album was released during the height of the mallpop phenomenon (Debbie Gibson, Tiffany, Paula Abdul, Milli Vanilli), this record is remarkably honest and stripped of musical tricks. Edie's voice is that of the girl next door turned runaway, the type that was once buttery smooth but has been matured by whatever this chick has seen. She doesn't growl like Courtney Love or croak like Marianne Faithfull-- Edie can hold a note-- but her vocal presence isn't as polished or pretty as her contemporaries. As she croons through the music, this eccentric-sounding woman is the type of girl you hang out with in her basement, eating stale popcorn and strumming on your acoustic guitar (that might be missing one or two strings). In a lot of ways, this record predates the angsty sounds from the mid-90s, which is probably why it found success years later. Little Miss S. is a sloppy ode to Edie Sedgewick, once Andy Warhol's muse. The song is a little more happy go lucky than the lyrics would suggest, but the underlying message of survival in spite of death seems to ring true: "You've got a lot of livin' to do without life..." The music stays a constant mellow with a slightly chilly undertone.

This group's lead singer seems to take over the presence because of her name in the title, but she's also earned it. Edie is the premiere songwriter on this album, writing almost 95% of the record herself. Her New Bohemians seem to serve more as a back-up band, but they are one damn good backing band. Their jamming-quality is relaxed, and their sound always puts me in a good mood. Their sound can best be heard on the melodically catchy songs like Nothing, which features some subtle bongos and a rolling guitar. Slower, more poetic tracks, include the tug-of-war track The Wheel and the appropriately titled Air of December, which has lyrics and a melody that evoke a Russian winter. Off of this forty-six minute album, and from eleven tracks, only one falls slightly being in the slightly too-long She, which, by that point, is a little too much of the same. I know that some people are sticklers for short albums, but I'd rather have a record that trims out all the fat. Now is a great song, though it sounds strikingly similar to the superior Air of December. The record ends on a very odd note with Keep Coming Back, a country-rock inspired song that features some Nashville influence and a much more urgent and produced sound before dumping itself into a poetically sad interlude. In spite of another country-inspired song, Beat the Time, it's quite awkward in context-- not that it's bad by any means-- I mean, she's right...I will keep coming back. This album was and is damn good.

VERDICT
Edie Brickell's sound may have dated since its initial release in 1988, but it never falls to put me in a good mood. The mellow and relaxing sounds on this disc make it worth the money you'll spend on it (to date, I've purchased three copies in total). Edie's vocals paired up with an easy-going (but NOT easy-listening) edge make Shooting Rubberbands at the Stars an album to behold.

01. What I Am [5 Stars]
02. Little Miss S. [5 Stars]
03. Air of December [5 Stars]
04. The Wheel [5 Stars]
05. Love Like We Do [5 Stars]
06. Circle [5 Stars]
07. Beat the Time [5 Stars]
08. She [3.5 Stars]
09. Nothing [5 Stars]
10. Now [4 Stars]
11. Keep Coming Back [4.5 Stars]

BEST: Little Miss S.
WORST: She

SCORE: 5 STARS (4.7+ )

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I've decided to submit this write-up as my contribution to the 9/9/09 write off that celebrates the 10th anniversary of Epinions's initial creation. Over the past few months, I've found myself horribly addicted to this site. I know that I don't copyedit my reviews as much as I should, but it definitely keeps me in the swing of this. Ever since I was a toddler, music has been my passion, and through Epinions, I've found an effective way to communicate my standings. Though I've been on the site for years, it was only recent that I fell in love with it.
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Recommended: Yes