Britta Phillips' first solo album, Luck or Magic, is an attempt to leave the drowsy, Belle and Sebastian-y sound of Dean & Britta—the band she formed with husband Dean Wareham when Luna originally broke up—behind. Unfortunately, she couldn't shake the couple's penchant for covers. Luck or Magic totals 10 tracks and half are Phillips' interpretations of other people's work. This move winds up feeling like album filler, despite the offbeat quirkiness of her picks. (A cover of Agnetha Fältskog's "Wrap Your Arms Around Me" is a highlight. When's the last time you listened to that song and remembered how great it is?) Ultimately, the covers feel more like a security blanket than a homage, as if Phillips couldn't quite trust her own work to make the cut.
Truly, it's her sweet voice that suffers the consequences. She has a honeyed touch that can be as soothing as it is airy and bright, even when the songs are tinged with tragedy—think "The Sun Is Still Sunny." Now, her vocals have been run through the same flat, echo effect that Lana Del Rey seems to live inside. Nowhere is this comparison more apparent than on the album's opener "Daydream." It becomes quite easy to swap out Phillips for Del Rey in your mind, minus Del Rey's pouty affect. Similar vocal effects are applied to the cover of "Fallin' In Love," written by Dennis Wilson and originally titled "Lady." Phillips plays it safe and willfully changes the song's subject by replacing "lady" with "baby," which comes off as cutesy and trite, negating her ability to take a deep dive into the Beach Boys' catalog and make an offbeat selection.
Sadly, that's not the album's worst transgression when it comes to tapering with originals. She opens her cover of "Landslide" with a cheerful, bubbly synth line, dubs in a child's voice right before the line "Can the child in my heart rise above?," and adds electric guitar solos so out of place they're just downright bizarre. If you're going to tackle Stevie Nicks, it's best not to rob her work of its emotional power by pummeling the song with unnecessary flourishes. Not to mention, the world needs another "Landslide" cover like it needs another version of Cohen's "Hallelujah."
It's not as if the album is devoid of its bright spots. "Do It Last" is pleasant enough to listen to. "Million Dollar Doll" is catchy. The cover of "One Fine Summer Morning" is perfectly lovely because Phillips sticks close to the original, which is a relief. The slowed-down version of "Drive" is also well-suited to the tone of her voice and worth a listen. But all in all, the sparks are overshadowed by poor choices and general lack of direction. Phillips recently told The Wall Street Journal that producer Erik Broucek kept the album from "sound[ing] like a random playlist," when in fact that's exactly how it ends up sounding.
It would be nice to see her trust herself more and cut down on the plethora of embellishments. Phillips can stand on her own, her talent will support her. (She was Jem for God's sake!) But the ability to make decent music doesn't need to rely on a rabbit's foot, or a stroke of good fortune, or mimicry. It does, however, tend to require a belief in oneself. A continued search for Luck or Magic probably isn't going to be very fruitful when what you really need is confidence.
