I’ve loved Fiest ever since I heard her sultry back up vocals on Teaches of Peaches. (Yes, this good little Christian girl listened to Peaches. Back in my early SF days my gay best friend/roomate was obsessed with her and we’d dance around in our living room doing our best imitation of bad 80’s dance hall moves.) She’s got a new album out – Metals – and I’m the one who’s obsessed.
The whole album is everything I love for a Saturday. It’s got enough of a smooth jazz-like sound to fit a lazy morning lie-in or a Saturday brunch. It’s got enough of a soulful beat to motivate me while I ::shudder:: clean. But more than anything, it takes you on a journey. There’s more of an edge to Metals, less of an obvious cutesy-indie vibe (à la She and Him) than in her last release The Reminder. Feist has grown, and her music is all the better for it.
I love this track, How Come You Never Go There, and will probably have it on repeat on my iPod for the next week. It’s swingy, bluesy, and on the surface a light-hearted listen. But if you pay attention to the lyrics, there’s a jadedness, a sence of disenchantment that belies its smooth cadence. This dichotomy of the silky and the jagged reminds me why Feist has been and will continue to be one of my favorite artists.
“How Come You Never Go There” by Feist, on Metals