Either Emma Louise "Scout" Niblett is coloring outside the lines or she's driving on the shoulder of the road. She's the type of wildly idiosyncratic artist who inspires mixed metaphors and even mixed-er reactions: the songs on her third full-length, Kidnapped By Neptune, are bold crayon scrawls over the road and tire marks across the page. Whereas the musicians to whom she's most often compared-- Chan Marshall, PJ Harvey, even Björk-- are certainly adventurous, Niblett herself is reckless, charging haphazardly ahead where others might hesitate. That eccentric abandon, of course, has just as many pitfalls as windfalls: The highs on Kidnapped are incredibly high, the lows very low, and there's not much in between.
Like those on Sweet Heart Fever and I Am, the stripped-down songs on Kidnapped change direction frequently and move by larks and whims, according to a logic known only to Niblett herself. At the album's most extreme moments, when knowing that logic might give listeners a clue to just what the heck she's trying to say, she sounds aloof, even defensive. After the shouted invocation of the muse that begins "Safety Pants", she repeats the same question-- "C'mon honey what are you doing to me?"-- 28 times. Niblett might say that the tack evokes the insistence of uncertainty, the constant doubt caused by a manipulative lover, but for listeners it's simply "C'mon honey what are you doing to me?" 28 times over, starting from and finally arriving at not much at all.
But elsewhere, Niblett's caginess and self-indulgence produce music with a powerful impact. Over the earthy blues riff on "Pom-Poms", she asks "Does anyone know a cute girl with some pom-poms?" who can cheer her up and cheer her on. About halfway through, the guitar drops out and a shuffling drum beat takes it place, picking up the tempo as she cheers her herself up all alone. At two and a half minutes, "Relax" is relatively short-- an aside, really-- but the combination of her raw voice and her simple fretwork makes for one of the album's most quietly effective moments. Unfortunately, she breaks the spell on the next song, "Valvoline", which again substitutes guitar with loud drums but also replaces the immediacy of "Relax" with a cloying annoyance of aimless discordance.
But that's how Kidnapped works, by contrasting extremes: songs pit the prismatic mellifluousness of Niblett's voice against churning guitar rumble, the otherworldliness of her astrology-inspired lyrics against the urgent pounding of rudimentary drums, introverted hush against extroverted noise, frustrating detachment against uncomfortable proximity. "Hot to Death" builds from an almost a capella intro to Chris Saligoe's heavy guitar, like an iron butterfly emerging from its cocoon. And "Lullaby for Scout in Ten Years" interrupts its lull for bursts of guitar, adding a little fury to Niblett's future self. These extremes can be compelling as well as tiring over the course of Kidnapped, but when Niblett asks herself "Are you still a chauffeur, driving your body around?" you can't help but hope she doesn't drive off the page.
