Tricky thing about music is, judgment's impaired when we're vain enough to think songs are about us: when puppy love turns train wreck and the only movies worth watching spotlight John Cusack way down in the drippy-nose dumps-- every song seems worthy to weep to, and Sarah McLachlan (or worse-- Vanessa Carlton, anybody?) sings volumes to smarting souls. So maybe Sub Pop signed songstress Rosie Thomas is Sarah McLachlan for the hipster haircut set; maybe her 2002 debut, When We Were Small, wasn't much more than mouthpiece of shy girls, given up on love, meant to flip boys off. If that's the case, it's arguably the cutest flying middle finger Sub Pop's ever seen ("So much for love, I guess/ I've been wronged but it's all right/ Cause I'm moving on/ I'm gonna drive over hills over mountains/ And canyons and boys that keep bringing me down"). Revisited, "Bicycle Tricyle"'s still as gently lovely as it is inspiring ("I can't be the homecoming queen/ To every boy who falls in love with me"), and Thomas' voice is still the prettiest, honey-logged thing; but in the end, When We Were Small was little more than fleeting moments-- and followup Only with Laughter Can You Win fell into similar ruts.
Thankfully, Thomas, a former Seattle resident, recognized the danger in sounding like she does, and moved to L.A. to record her third Sub Pop release, If Songs Could Be Held, where inspiration was scheduled to strike, but passed her over. It's too bad nothing's new a third time around either, and Thomas-- gorgeous, emotive voice and all-- could still make for some teen sitcom backdrop, provided it's something like the late "Dawson's Creek". Maybe it's just that lives come in motifs, and recycle themselves, but talk of uncertain futures, homecoming queens, and outerwear needs no repeating. To its credit, "Pretty Dress" sounds unique-- kinda like Alanis Morisette doing "Smooth Criminal"-- for better or worse. The effort's there, but when Thomas records "Let It Be Me" with Ed Harcourt, they end up floundering like a pair of white kids trying to pass as Billie Holliday and Louis Armstrong.
Last words of lines are too-easily guessable, but lyrics are best summed up in the familiar ones of "Time Goes Away": "How do we make these moments last/ How do we get them to stay/ When everything passes and time goes away?" It's as easy as rhyming "crying" with "dying" (see "Death Came and Got Me")-- as easy, maybe, as singer/songwriter stints come, requisite heartache aside. Still, time passing's the stuff of Virginia Woolf, and feelings like "What can I say/ What can I do/ I'm still in love/ Why aren't you?" and "I remember what you used to feel like/ See how much has changed" are basic but beautifully recognizable. There's the potential for something here; as of If Songs Could Be Held, it's yet unrealized.
