Guys, ladies, we've all been there before: You spot that certain someone from across the room. Those bedroom eyes, that come-hither smile. He or she could have been poured into those jeans, and that top looks like it can barely contain that rack (or…um… those pecs? I'm losing my grip on gender neutrality here). You sidle up to this barroom Adonis, this Venus of the billiard hall, your thoughts consumed by visions of future hours whiled away in amorous pleasure. You've already decided on the names of your first two children by the time you've made your introduction. And just when it looks like life couldn't get any sweeter, this chiseled deity, this Platonic ideal of absolute beauty and grace goes and blows it all by saying something incredibly stupid.
Actually, I've never really been in a scenario like the one I just described, but it's as fitting a comparison as I can draw for Speck Mountain's sophomore release Some Sweet Relief. Rarely have I encountered an album so pretty yet so empty. Singer Marie-Claire Balabanian and band co-founder Karl Briedrick create gentle, spacious melodies, equally evocative of ’60s psychedelia as they are of down-South country folk. There's a warmth and delicacy to the album that makes it an undeniable pleasure to listen to.
Unfortunately, it's a warmth and delicacy that's lifted shamelessly from Mazzy Star. And in case you think I'm overstating my case, I'd like to point out that, on the press-sheet that Speck Mountain's publicist sent along with the album, no fewer than seven of the critical blurbs drew this very same comparison. Balabanian's voice and delivery are dead-ringers for Hope Sandoval's, and the echo-y, reverb-drenched musical accompaniment provided by Briedrick and company seem perfectly content to play in the sandbox David Roback cobbled together from scraps of The Velvet Underground and The Jesus and Mary Chain back in the ’90s. There's borrowing, and then there's out-and-out copying.
With this in mind, Some Sweet Relief's beauty starts to wear kind of thin on repeated listening. A song like “Angela,” so melodically engrossing upon first spin, reveals itself to be nothing more than a gorgeous outro to a song the band never bothered to write. “I Feel Eternal” cuts its base of Mazzy Star with a generous helping of Diana Ross and fails to raise the ante over either influence. “Fidelity Shake,” I kid you not, is a bold-face rip-off of Alice in Chains' “Rooster.” The slowness and tranquility of these songs turn into a kind of sluggishness upon repeated listening, the band lacking sufficient resources of their own to animate them or give them life.
Go ahead and give the album a listen. No one will blame you for finding Some Sweet Relief seductive, but like most seduction, all its power is rooted in artifice, with no real substance behind those dulcet tones. No, I won't be surprised if you end up going home with Speck Mountain for the night. But I do highly doubt you'll be calling them back tomorrow evening.
1. Shame on the Soul
2. Fidelity Shake
3. Angela
4. I Feel Eternal
5. Some Sweet Relief
6. Backslider
7. Backsliding
8. Twinlines
9. Sister Water
More about: Speck Mountain
