Having spent much of my life in a small southern town, I'm well versed in the logistics of beating the odds. Every shitty open mic nite singer/songwriter, every floundering teenage garage band, every greasy-locked techie with an expensive computer and a synthesizer, and every 17-year-old streetcorner rapper is (unless blindly idealistic or the child of a record tycoon) familiar with the obstacles lying between the practice space in their parent's basement and a reasonable facsimile of a musical career-- much less a cover shot on a glossy magazine, a slot on MTV's Cribs, or a Pitchfork rating of 7 or higher. Suffice it to say that merely putting out an album on a recognized label, if you're a 19-year-old, rock-inclined female from South Carolina, indicates some pretty serious odds-beating.
For Tami Hart, however, the accomplishment of her excellent, eclectic 2000 debut, No Light in August, was very near improbable. She offered an idiosyncratic interpretation of Northwest-inspired rock with a kind of skill and emotional maturity exceptionally rare for a songwriter still in her teens. The album earned her considerable critical accolades, a handful of recognized musicians to play cameo roles on her future releases, and great expectations for her next release.
What's impressive about What Passed Between Us is that, in the two years following No Light in August, Hart's craft has progressed to a level that disallows the few flaws of her original output. She still mines the same Nirvana-meets-Team Dresch aesthetic for her uptempo rock numbers. But with a supporting cast featuring The Gossip's Beth Ditto and labelmate Sarah Dougher, Tami Hart has expanded her repertoire to include note-perfect fractured guitar pop, acoustic ballads, eerie C&W-tinged; tunes, and messy rock and roll.
The driving guitars of opener "Complication" are reminiscent of No Light in August's furor, with a more complicated rhythmic sensibility. Hart's vocals take on a different tone with the changing character of the songs. She restrains that throaty yowl for the Go-Gos-inspired "To the Editor"-- almost a dance song, complete with pop harmonies in the chorus. These dynamic changes in style, met with considerable ability by Hart, indicate an impressive degree of proficiency in her craft. The hard-edged "On Your Houses" pushes through distorted staccato choruses and resolves into softness as Hart sings, "Look at you, where are your friends now?" before she returns it to its original form.
There's something to be said for an artist who can deliver such a seamless, shameless homage to her influences. The raucous "Trapped in Your Blood" is one of the more pitch-perfect Dirty-era Sonic Youth ripoffs I've heard-- she even goes so far as to emulate Kim Gordon's vocal style. The album's best moment, however, is the haunting guitar pop of "From Chapel Hill." Showing shades of Sleater-Kinney, it's a subtle piece about unrequited love, undercut by discordant harmonies and a super-tight drumline. This style of music comes so naturally to Hart, she makes it sound unique without the nearly eclipsing presence of her influence.
That being said, there are problems here. Hart's eclectic sensibility is unquestionably an asset, but the dramatic shifts from song to song are a little uncomfortable at times. Like many young musicians, Hart seems remarkably energetic and prolific. Trying on a lot of musical hats is normal, and naturally, some aren't going to fit. The airy "Head in the Clouds" is boring and typical, likewise "If You Were a Judge." Both are well-executed, but drag after the more crystalline moments on the album. I'm inclined to be forgiving, though-- I mean, 21 years old? It would be an extraordinary accomplishment for someone 31 or 41 years old. The audacity and energy afforded Hart by her age keeps things from getting too dry, and broadly hints at what I can only suspect are greater things to come.
