By Martin Castro (The Cascade) – Email
The last couple of years have seen more female pop vocalists taking more risks in their aesthetic expression, not pandering to the trends that dominate the charts. Basia Bulat’s debut record, Good Advice, finds itself straddling that line — between the more carefree pop of today, and a more reserved, self-aware aesthetic that grounds itself in Bulat’s talents as a singer and multi-instrumentalist.
“La La Lie,” the first track on Good Advice, is backed by a simple melody that repeats in the chorus. The cheerfulness of the track is punctuated with bittersweet lyricism, culminating in a tambourine-driven minute that would fit in perfectly as the soundtrack to the part of a movie wherein the main character, previously downtrodden and depressed, finally finds the courage to just be happy.
“Let Me In” is interesting mostly because of Bulat’s practice of presenting the listener with two almost irreconcilable melodic lines (one instrumental and one sung), which work by simultaneously shifting in pace and tone relative to each other throughout the track, and, just as they start to drag on too long, coalescing into an interlude that’s remarkably reminiscent of something ABBA might have done if they were something like seven cheer points lower on the cheerfulness scale.
“Time,” a calmer, more sentimental track, is perhaps the best representation of Bulat’s vocal talents. Although not possessed by the energy found in the first couple of tracks on the record, “Time” works as Good Advice’s equivalent to the kind of love song that’s all pining and insecurity, which is communicated more by Bulat’s increasingly fragile (yet still not frail) tone of voice, as opposed to the lyricism, which, although still a rung or two above the norm, falls flat, or the instrumentation, which is comprised of a steady piano and drum beat.
“Time” and the track that follows it, “Good Advice,” are the most clear examples of Bulat leaning (perhaps too far) over into the black hole at the center of alternative pop, wherein every song, borderless and without any discernible differences from the thousands that have preceded it, is sucked in and compressed into an amorphous blob, shapeless and without punch. In short, the tracks aren’t bad, but they’re not good. They’re not doing anything new or building upon anything that’s come before them. They just are.
“Infamous” saves the day, showcasing the best of the record’s appealing qualities: driven forward by percussion and a droning synth, as well as an ubiquitously strummed guitar more there for rhythm than melody, Bulat croons in a wavering tone: “Come back or not but call it off / Come back or don’t but turn me down / Don’t waste my time pretending love is somewhere else.”
The best track on the record is neatly tucked away in its last third: “Fool” makes use of more simple instrumentation than most of the other tracks on the record, but is home to Bulat’s most passionately delivered chorus. It’s Bulat at her best: contemplative, but not overly so, accompanied by an instrumental amalgamation of joyful and melancholic tones, highlighting her delivery. As a debut record, Good Advice is a convincing case for Bulat’s bright future as a singer-songwriter.
