Catatonia
Equally Cursed and Blessed
(Atlantic)

     The first time you play Equally Cursed and Blessed, you will immediately take notice of chanteuse Cerys Matthews' throaty wail, which is vaguely reminiscent of a muted trumpet.  Actually, every time you play this album, her voice is the first attribute that will grab your attention.  Whether or not that’s a good thing probably depends on how much you like the Muppets.
     Musically, Catatonia swirls and swoons in the cinematic fashion of French ambient savants Air.  However, at it’s best, ECAB sounds like Pulp-lite, minus Jarvis Cocker’s trademarked sleazy innocence (and where’s the fun in that?).  Crunchy guitars ebb and flow in the tides of frothy arpeggios and serene orchestral oceans.  In some songs, like the pseudo-rump-shaker "Karaoke Queen," loops prevail, but for the most part the tunes are laid back and likely to be best enjoyed in a cheap motel bathrobe whilst contemplating the merits of the dry martini.  Aside from the odd guitar outburst, there is nothing very raw here, sonically speaking.
     The songs could easily survive as instrumentals, but the often infantile lyrics would fall flat without Matthews' unique delivery.  For instance, the opening lines from "Valerian," "Never meant you no harm/ Never spun you no yarn."  What the Hell is that?  The twisting "Dead From the Waist Down," and speakeasy rocker "Shoot the Messenger" are two unconventional gems.  The single "Mulder & Scully," is probably the strongest track on the record, even if it is just a poorly timed attempt to cash in on the fading pop-luster of the X-Files.
     Catatonia should appeal to fans of quasi-symphonic, lighthearted pop, but will likely be snubbed by listeners who enjoy more existential musings.

By Casey Lombardo
Long Beach Union

Originally printed 4.3.00

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