In the three years since 2003's Lullaby for Liquid Pig, singer-songwriter Lisa Germano found both a comfortable new home for her recording career (Swans leader Michael Gira's Young God label) and the most challenging topic to engage her muse yet: death in all its various incarnations, be they physical, spiritual or intellectual. Whether celebrating her father's successful open heart operation ("Too Much Space"), grieving the passing of a beloved pet cat that's been the focus of several earlier songs ("Golden Cities") or lamenting the musical vacuum left by the tragic death of Jeff Buckley a decade past ("Except For the Ghosts"), Germano's tales flow as if from a dream state, cast in a suitably ethereal sonic landscape that's graced here by the presence of Smiths/The The/Morrisey guitarist Johnny Marr. Given the subject matter, it's no surprise to find her wit notably subdued, yielding an album whose spirit can seem as delicate as its heart is bleak.-- Jerry McCulley
Lisa Germano
In the Maybe World
[Young God Records; 2006]
Rating: 7.5
As if there was any doubt who Lisa Germano is singing to, she sets the record straight on "Too Much Space", the second track of In the Maybe World. After effortlessly painting a portrait of a jilted lover ("An illusion; it's just not true/ We've always been me and you"), she ends the track on a repeated refrain-- one of us, one of us. Most folks will recognize that line from the movie Freaks, a twisted love story that turns into a tale of revenge set amongst a carnival freak show. The circus freaks-- pinheads, hermaphrodites, an inchworm-like man made up of little more than a torso and a head-- use this line as a disquieting rallying cry, and it works the same way in Germano's song. It's cold comfort for those that have been there to know they're not alone, even though they are. A chorus of Germanos-- breathy, exhausted-- against a plainly pretty piano backdrop only adds to the unsettling mood.
For Germano, this push-pull between pretty and unsettling is nothing new. Most of her songs resemble lullabies, but they're the sort of songs only Wednesday Addams would find comforting. "In the Land of Fairies" would be one of Wednesday's favorites, what with Germano affecting a deceptive sing-song cadence to talk about stupid ogres and monsters that aren't as much the stuff of the Brothers Grimm but of dementia ("Every little soul has/ Sides you've never seen"). Germano's vocal affectations-- she sounds like she's waking up with a frog in her throat-- also work well on "Red Thread". The potentially clumsy call-and-response chorus of "Go to hell/ Fuck you" is redeemed by her self-awareness and lack of guile.
Whatever subtlety Germano's voice and lyrics might lack is buttressed by the deceptive simplicity of her music. Perhaps her songcraft is too deceptive-- a casual listener might think these songs are just gauzy doodles of piano and guitar. But an attentive ear will learn otherwise. She knows when to hit a bum note, as on the flat chord struck during "Land of Fairies" or the sourness in "A Seed". She can also conjure moments of surprising beauty. The album's final track, "After Monday", veers into a tar bed of subtly distorted guitar, but then just as quickly swoops into a gorgeous piano passage. Moments like this are indicative of Germano's talent. She can unearth the darkness in the most innocuous scenes, as well as allow light to shine into the bleakest of corners, and does so while expertly straddling the line between poignant and absurd. Would that we could all be freaks like her.
-David Raposa, October 05, 2006
Link-arrowLisa Germano: http://www.lisagermano.com/main.html
Review by Heather Phares
It's hard to imagine a more perfect home for Lisa Germano's delicately challenging music than the Young God label. True, the ethereal sound of Geek the Girl and Excerpts from a Love Circus made her a pretty good fit for 4AD's roster, but the unflinching, often disturbing honesty of her work -- and her equally unflinching commitment to it -- is much closer to the outlook of Michael Gira and the other artists he supports. As always, In the Maybe World pairs warm, enveloping sonics with Germano's gently troubling way of questioning why things are the way they are. And, as always, In the Maybe World rewards close listening and the time spent with it. Germano's previous album, Lullaby for Liquid Pig, was an exploration of -- and a kiss-off to -- addictions, particularly alcohol. This time, she examines death in its various forms, whether it's the end of a life, a relationship, or an idea. Germano is such an intimate, vulnerable-sounding artist that it's easy to assume that music isn't just her life, but her life is her music. In the Maybe World ranges from clearly personal songs like the candle-lit "Golden Cities," which deals with the death of her cat Miamo-Tutti, whom she immortalized on several songs throughout her career (and because she's such an intimate artist, knowing that Miamo-Tutti is dead will no doubt sadden longtime fans), to the Jeff Buckley tribute "Except for the Ghosts," which she handles just as sensitively as her autobiographical songs. Distance and absence are the subjects of two of In the Maybe World's most quintessentially Lisa Germano songs: "Too Much Space," a sketch of loneliness that's even sadder because it's so matter of fact, and "Moon in Hell," where distance is an emptiness inside as well as an escape. There are some notable differences from her previous albums, though. There's less of the wry humor Germano usually allows to shine through once in a while; In the Maybe World comes closest with the spooky singsong of "In the Land of Fairies" and "A Seed," which has such simple, almost childlike lyrics ("Love is a seed that wants to grow/Put it in your heart and let it go") that it sounds like the ruins of a nursery rhyme or a long-abandoned folk song. This is also her least gauzy-sounding album since Slide, with arrangements that focus mostly on piano and acoustic guitar. "After Monday" is a deeply surreal exception, however: the pretty haze of its verses gives way to choruses that sound like they're decaying -- one of Germano's oldest tricks, but still an effectively disorienting one. Despite these differences, In the Maybe World is still a strong addition to her body of work. Her music remains perpetually, impossibly fragile, but like cobwebs that seem like they should blow away with the slightest breeze, is actually built to last for years.
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