Under threat of snow, I took the bus to work today (my car is not a mudder). While the bus was a bit busy for my pandemic sensibilities, I was rewarded with something fun – a nice long walk home. Pre-car, I used to do this all the time and not only did it give me a time to decompress from the days’ events, I had 45 minutes for music listening as well. In this case it also meant I could be rid of this terrible record after a single day. Thank you, snow warning.
Disc 1523 is…. Tongues and Tails
Artist: Sophie B. Hawkins
Year of Release: 1992
What’s up with the Cover? Sophie does her best impression of forties movie star.
How I Came To Know It: I’ve owned this CD a long time, although I rarely put it on. I don’t remember buying it, but that’s probably cognitive dissonance on my part, as I subconsciously protect my ego from such a monumentally bad decision.
How It Stacks Up: This is my only Sophie B. Hawkins album, so it can’t stack up.
Ratings: 1 star
“Tongues and Tails” opening track begins with the faint sound of train cars clicking along railroad tracks. This has nothing to do with the song, adds nothing musically, and is the harbinger of what you can expect the rest of the way on an unfocused and overwrought album that has aged badly.
That opening song is “Damn I Wish I Was Your Lover” which is Hawkins most famous and successful song, and probably the reason I bought the record in the first place. “Damn I Wish I Was Your Lover” is overproduced, as is everything that will follow it. However, it has good bones and an above average hook that rises above. The song will go on to lean heavily on that hook for success, but it withstands the strain.
The next song, “California Here I Come,” starts well, and had me thinking that I might enjoy all the songs as much as the first one. This optimism was not to last. Before too long, Hawkins has decided to throw in her breathy whisper-talk. She uses this throughout the record, and while it is her signature thing, it doesn’t work for me. It might have been better here if she didn’t decide to use it to recite the Lord’s Prayer in the middle of the song, but alas, that’s what she does.
It gets much worse on the whisper-talk front as we progress, culminating on the album’s final tune, “Don’t Stop Swaying.” Here we have an interlude where Hawkins retells the story of Hansel and Gretel, except in her version after they’re lost, they decide they should make out. Apparently, the fact that they are siblings is not an issue the listener should concern themselves with. I’ll be charitable and assume there is some strained symbolism at work here, although if there is it was lost on me. Maybe it is a commentary on how leaving your kids in the woods to starve or be eaten by witches is liable to, you know, emotionally mess them up? Anyway, if there was some emotional gravitas hidden in this song, I was unable to discover it.
The record is replete with bad production decisions, and at least twice there is the faint sound of sirens (police or ambulance, I’m not sure which). This was occasionally disconcerting and consistently annoying. One of these “siren” songs, “Mysteries We Understand,” reminded me a lot like Madonna’s 1989 hit “Respect Yourself” in many ways except the one that matters: “Respect Yourself” is a good song. I suggest you skip this record and listen to Madonna instead.
It doesn’t help that Hawkins is drowning all these tunes with a bunch of “serious art” decisions that never satisfactorily resolve, nor make the songs any better. On the sultry cover of Bob Dylan’s “I Want You” she almost gets there, only to have a phone ringing in the back of the mix. Maybe this is supposed to evoke a booty call, but the effect on me was much more akin to having your mom calling and leave a message on your answering machine while you’re having sex.
I don’t know how I have not consigned this album to the pyre long ago, but it has lurked like a bad penny on my CD shelves for almost thirty years. That ends today.
Best tracks: Damn I Wish I Was Your Lover
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