k. is the "solo" project of Ida bassist Karla Schickele, and-- what a surprise-- her debut full-length breaks new ground for mediocrity. In fact, it's hard to imagine a more non-offensive collection of songs that take you neither one way nor the other. New Problems is not bad enough to warrant serious disdain, but neither is it exciting, original, insightful, inspiring, cathartic, or any of the other things I look for in a listening experience. If I could, I'd give this album a rating of 5.00000 to emphasize just how middling it is. Even a bunch of guest musicians-- Tara Jane O'Neil, Schickele's former Beekeeper bandmate Jan Kotik, and most of the rest of Ida-- couldn't add anything redeeming.
Things look bleak from the outset. First there's the whole Ida/Lisa Loeb connection (need I explain?), and secondly, the song "Telegram" is a Silvia Plath poem is set to music. I don't know about you, but I can't stand Silvia Plath. Not only does she represent the height of poetic pretension to me, but the people who are into her writings are arguably more intolerable than her poetry.
Strangely enough, "Telegram" was the song I enjoyed the most on the album, if you want to call it "enjoying." Let's say that, after hearing it, I shrugged and said "eh" to myself with slightly less vigor than with the other songs. But like the rest of the album, it sat firmly at the tolerable level. It's a slightly bluesy, bare-bones type of song-- just acoustic guitar and voice-- and at least for this one track, Schickele doesn't try too hard to be cute or emotive.
"Reminder" serves as the emotional highpoint of the album, a cautionary tale about getting involved with the wrong guy. It contains some pretty cheesy lines like, "I don't know your score but I know you're a player/ I know you're gonna break my heart sooner or later." If nothing else, the song is performed with a little conviction, though with no better way to express it than a little noisy bit at song's end. The rest of the album just sort of sits there staring at you, neither forcing you to get up and turn it off nor leaving you with the desire to hear it again.
Interestingly enough, in the brief "Always So Good," Schickele provides the final word on New Problems. Riding a simplified Nick Drake-like guitar figure, Schickele repeats, "It's always so good but it's never the same." I can't help but think the opposite about this album: always the same and never so good.
