Antony and the Johnsons

I am a Bird Now (Secretly Canadian '05) Rating: B+
This album has been getting a fair amount of press and critical raves, so I decided to check it out. After all, it’s not every day that a singer comes around who warrants comparisons with the likes of Nina Simone and Jeff Buckley, and indeed from the very first stunning sentence (“Hope there's someone who'll take care of me, when I die”) it’s apparent that Antony possesses a haunting, singular, incredibly sad voice that’s uniquely affecting. Certainly fans such as Lou Reed (who talks for a few seconds and adds guitar to “Fistfull Of Love”), Rufus Wainwright (who sings lead on the short but sweet “What Can I Do?”), Devendra Banhart (who shows off for the first 30 seconds of “Spiraling”), and Boy George (who shockingly outshines Antony on “You Are My Sister”) approve, and despite the many superfluous guest appearances (Julia Yasuda also adds the short spoken word filler piece “Free At Last”), this is Antony’s show all the way. It’s likely that sparse piano and string accompanied torch songs from an androgynous misfit won’t appeal to everybody, but even if you can’t exactly comprehend where he’s coming from (I’ve no doubt that he means it when he sings “dear doctor, I do not want to be a boy, I want to be a girl”), his thematically linked songs are universal enough (self-loathing, an inability to fit in, etc.), and his gorgeous voice is so angelic that I can’t help but be moved. I don’t think that this is an album that's for everyday listening, but rather it's a mood piece. Some of the songs might seem insubstantial or sluggish, and a boredom factor definitely creeps in from time to time, but “Hope There’s Someone” (somebody get me some tissues), “You Are My Sister” (a stellar duet with a singer with whom he shares an obvious kinship), and a “Fistfull Of Love” (the longest, most lively, and most instrumentally fleshed out track, this has some really neat jamming) are terrific songs, and there are times when I think that others (“For Today I am a Boy,” “Spiraling,” “Bird Guhl”) are just as good. “Bird Guhl” ends this incredibly sad album on a soaringly optimistic note, which was a good move after all the tear inducing heaviness that preceded it, and though you might at times feel uncomfortable at the album’s unflinching, self-introspective honesty, hopefully you’ll appreciate his attempt at such uninhibited art. Besides, even when the music gets bogged down there’s that voice, which would sound spellbinding merely singing the phone book (which may be preferable to some people). This is Antony and the Johnsons second album (their first is self-titled and supposedly not as good, though I myself haven't heard it) after a long apprenticeship in the cabaret clubs of New York, and the album exudes a confidence likely born from being a veteran. Perhaps Antony shares the spotlight too much, and again some songs make me push the fast forward button if I’m not in a properly mellow mood, but by and large I feel that the hype is largely justified. His music certainly isn’t as universal as a Jeff Buckley, but Antony and the Johnsons are unlike anything else you’re likely to hear this year, and if they can just improve their songwriting consistency I wouldn’t be surprised if a masterpiece is in their future.

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