I bought back this next album way back in 1991 when I had precious little purchasing power. I suppose I chose well, since after all these years, its still here with me.
I also bought the Infidels’ self-titled album in 1991, primarily for the song “100 Watt Bulb.” Don’t be looking for that review, though. They can't all be winners.
Disc 1827 is…Angel Food for Thought
Artist: Meryn Cadell
Year of Release: 1991
What’s up with the Cover? Meryn’s thoughts are so infused with angelic energy they glow like an electric halo around her head!
Meryn does not appear stressed by this. I suppose if a nimbus of angelic radiance formed around your head every time you had a thought you’d eventually get used to it. Stay calm, don’t walk near power lines or wear a metal helmet, etc.
How I Came To Know It: This is one of the oldest CDs in my collection, with a battered and slightly broken jewel case to prove it. I bought this when it came out, after hearing good things, likely from a girl I was trying to impress at the time. I remember the vague notion of doing this, but not the specific girl. Damn…
In any event, this puts me in a very small minority of people who did not buy it solely for its one hit, “The Sweater”. More on that later.
How It Stacks Up: This is my only Meryn Cadell album, so it can’t stack up.
Ratings: 3 stars
I’m often asked if I listen to podcasts, usually as a precursor to someone recommending one that they like. I appreciate the interest (and some of the topics described intrigue me) but I always answer in the negative, adding that I only have so much “listening” time in my life and every single second of it gets spent on music.
Meryn Cadell’s “Angel Food for Thought” is still music…at least in part, but this is as close as I get to having someone just talking in my ear. Cadell’s record is a mix of spoken word, back beats, and a sprinkling of singing here and there as if they knew I might just tune out if I didn’t hear a melody.
From the beginning of “Angel Food…” it is clear Cadell has no interest in picking between music and spoken word, and they spend the next 35 lightning-fast moments bouncing back and forth between speaking and singing, sometimes within a single track. However, it doesn’t feel jarring because the transitions are so seamless, and because Cadell’s delivery in both mediums is naturally musical. They’ve got phrasing that makes every poem feel like music, whether there is a tune behind it or not. If you’ve never been to a spoken word show, the dividing line is often this ‘feel’ for the beat that separates success from failure. Here we have success.
That said, this album has a lot going on and it switches gears and topics quickly. Despite its short length it squeezes in 20 tracks, most of them clocking in around one and half to two minutes long. Don’t like something? It’ll be over ery soon. Do like it? Sorry – same rule applies.
My criticism of the record is that it feels like a lot of the ideas are only half formed. Poems with amazing conceptual possibility, but over before they fully take flight. But even as I rebelled against Cadell’s constantly shifting attention, I couldn’t deny the sheer genius of their wit. This record is loaded with clever turns of phrase, each of which explores a complicated and sometimes painful world of love, broken relationships and even the basic struggle just to pay the rent.
When they do go full “sing” voice, Cadell shows a gorgeous tone, rich and pure and sitting at the nexus of folk and pop. “I Say” is particularly beautiful, sinking into a deep introspection that pulls you to a lonely but important place to uncomfortably confront your doubts and fears. “Confide” does the same, reminding you that you need face tough emotions and come to terms with them. Need a wallow? “I Say” and “Confide” is a double-gut punch that’s as good as therapy. I needed plenty of wallow time in 1991, and Meryn was always there for me.
On the spoken word front, “Martina” was a favourite of mine that holds up well years later. The song is about a woman walking home at 3 a.m. alone, fearful that she will suffer violence for no other reason than being out a bit too late. The character wears high heels, and Cadell uses the sound of their clacking on pavement as the backbeat to the anxiety the title character feels. Years later artists like Dessa (“Fire Drills”) and Amyl and the Sniffers (“Knifey”) honour this theme but, at least for me, Cadell did it first.
On a record that can’t decide if it is spoken word or music, it is probably fitting that its one hit, “the Sweater” is a bit of both. It is also one of the lighter songs on the record, telling the story borrowing a boy’s sweater and spending a few days fantasizing about a boy, who ultimately was a) not that into you and b) not worth being into either. As tales of high school trauma go, it’s a timeless one, and well delivered.
The record ends with “Barbie” a song about growing up to find out that you don’t live in a dream house and Ken may not be as emotionally available as he seemed in doll form all those years ago. It’s a fitting end to a record that is chock full of razor-sharp observations, and the disenchantment we all feel when we grow up and find out what adulthood actually looks like.
In the end the record is a little bit genius and a little bit overwrought, but this never bothers me since when I put it on I know what I’m signing up for. Now, so do you.
Best tracks: Secret, Inventory, I Say, The Sweater, Martina, Confide, Barbie
