 |
It's
no secret I've been a big fan of Ruebi's ever since I heard her play
the Orb Festival almost three years ago,
so I'll try to cut to the chase and not sound like too much of a kiss-ass
when I say what an amazing treat it is to finally hear one of my favorite
singer/songwriters get the full CD treatment.
With vocal talents rivaling that of indie greats like
Chan Marshall (Cat
Power) and Hope Sandoval, it's a
shame more music fans outside of Sacramento haven't had a chance to
hear her play. Ruebi breaths a potent otherworldly energy into her songs--
ethereally seductive one moment, schizophrenic and childlike the next.
Blended together with smooth unadorned guitars, bedroom murmurs, and
haunting echoes, the entire album, aptly titled French
Film, feels as if it's being viewed through a vaseline lens or
the soft blur of a distant memory.
If you've caught one of her live shows or spoken word performances,
then you're probably familiar with most of the material on this album.
"Cat call" comes across great, "honey" and "sunburns
in the rain" are even better, but "machine gun" (with
it's ghostly arias and sinister whistling) steals the show, and demonstrates
just how well crafted a recording this is. Underneath
that xeroxed cover and paper sleeve, is a labor of love as powerful
as it is playful.
Don't blame me if you feel the overwhelming desire for a cigarette aftwards.
(ok, now I really am just kissing ass)
|
