Rosie Thomas
With Love
Sing-a-Long Records; 2012
There is nothing cool about this album. Nothing. Nada. Zip.
Zilch. Zero.
I’ve tried hard to find something.
Anything. I’ve dumped it out all over my bed. I rifled through the stuff. Checked
all the compartments. And there is nothing here that could ever be classified
as cool. It’s a sweet, syrupy ball of saccharine. In a mumblecore world where artists are more keen on making albums filled with ambiguity, obtuseness,
irony, and dread, Rosie Thomas sticks out like the Statue of Liberty on a
planet of apes. She’s less early Cat Power and more Bette Midler. That, my
friends, is not cool. Releasing an album of ten love songs, on Valentine’s Day,
and naming it With Love is not cool.
But by shaking the shackles of obscurity and pretension, Rosie Thomas’ proud
pinning of her heart on her sleeve is about the most punk thing an artist
could do these days. She’s like Buddy the Elf shouting “I’m in love and I don’t
care who knows.” That kind of transparency is refreshing.
But let’s be honest here. Rosie Thomas has never really been
cool. Not in any classic sense anyway. She’s always been the type who sings "From a Distance" at school talent shows without a drip of irony. She’s always written straightforward love songs.
She’s always been able to find the silver lining in the darkest of clouds. Her
songs have always bent towards power ballad territory. Go back and read old reviews of her albums. The cool kids that write about music haven't been too keen on this side of her. So when I say With Love isn't cool, this shouldn't be a surprise. It's sort of how she's always been.
But on With Love, Rosie
Thomas is herself, only more so. Her decade worth of music has finally
culminated to this point where she can stand up and says “this is who I
am. I do not need to pretend I am not romantic. I do not need to pretend I want
to be inspirational. I do not need to pretend I love Bette Midler, Vanessa
Williams, and the early Jackson 5.” Because even with those older records, there was still a lingering sense of a person who wanted to be taken seriously by the taste makers.
Thus, With Love can only
be understood and appreciated as the work of an artist who is entirely
comfortable in her own skin. How else can you explain as song like “Back to Being Friends”? If a chorus of “if we went back to
being friends/what what would it do/what would it mend/when we were meant to be so much more/if we went back to being friends/I'm not convinced this heart would mend/cause being friends wouldn't be good enough” doesn’t convince you of
just how out of step Thomas is with current lyrical practices, the music for the
same song just might. In a period known by restraint, Thomas belts the chorus.
More so, by the end of the song the music drops off and we’re serenaded by
handclaps and a choral. It’s flameworthy for sure. A similar effect happens
with “Over the Moon” where we’re finally privy to the results of what Rosie
Thomas covering an early Mariah Carey jam might sound like. Her lyrical romanticism has finally found its musical mate.
If it sounds like I’m being snarky, I’m not. I’m simply
trying to highlight how confident and unique Thomas sounds in today’s jaded
climate. Personally I want more albums that make me feel alive. Personally I
want more albums that celebrate friends and loved ones. Personally I’m
thankful that this might be the most punk album you’ll find in the indie
mainstream.
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