Instantly Verifiably Variable
Caroline Polachek delivers yet again with her fourth studio album, Desire, I Want To Turn Into You. The title alone helps to set the stage for what awaits its listeners: a sincere dialogue between the renowned pop artist and her fans. And that established bit of sincerity goes quite a long way as well, considering the extent to which Polachek’s evidently willing to go.
Polachek walks a thin line between electro- and techno-pop on her album. She dabbles in both forms, using that experimentation to her absolute advantage. Her usage of the two is playful, not distracting and definitely leaves a lasting impression. And in the process, this latest work of hers becomes a garden that her whole audience is invited to walk through, showing every last member the flowers she’s grown, the vibrant green she’s maintained.
While there is some degree of variety to each track present, the repetitious nature of certain sounds Polachek uses in order to try her hand at the creation of wholly original instrumentation is unavoidable. It’s clear and transparent, sticking out like a sore thumb, and that’s what affects the album’s overall appeal, since repetition has an easy way of quickly becoming a nuisance of sorts.
And, unfortunately, when there’s repetition, there’s likely boredom, and that’s what this album risks. A lot of the tracks are catchy, no doubt, but they come off as somewhat tedious. Variety is here, it must not be forgotten, but, even though it’s perhaps what’s needed most, there isn’t an overwhelming sense of it. Polachek comes so close, but she lands so far off.
The undeniably fantastic part about the album is Polachek’s voice. At the same time, it isn’t invalid to bring up the question of whether her voice is enough to carry her and everything she’s working with. However, voice on its own just does not trump the fluidity of sound.
For example, “Pretty In Possible” in particular has a bit of a dull opening. If simplicity is something that people are searching for here, then they’ve arrived at the right spot. What listeners are left with, just as how it is with most of the other tracks throughout, is something that’s conversational, something that’s lightning-quick.
One thing that simply works on the album is the outros. They’re calm, collected and peaceful, and are therefore grounding. Letting intimacy just be and permitting listeners to feel so absolutely close, in a way, they’re the saving grace.
“Crude Drawing of An Angel” is the most inspiring song of the bunch. It describes the hard work of an artist in some room out there in the vast world of struggling stragglers, where the sun is peeking through with its rays. Sounding tribal and thus transforming into something entrancing, it’s totally understandable for listeners to visualize some bird hiding high up in the branches of any miscellaneous tree anywhere, because quiet whistling is what makes up this track’s ending.
A few tracks take on their own and turn not into desire, unlike what the title wishes for, but stand-alone discourses. “Blood and Butter” is a humorous play on words, and really gets into the religious language that its title hints at. Finally, with a last gasp, it ends in eerie fashion.
Polachek’s newest album isn’t anything too fancy. On the contrary, in the midst of trying to emulate signature sounds of cultures abroad and balancing harmony, everything from church bells to chime-y-like tools results in this one possessing rampant redundancy.
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