Beauty is a rare thing and Aimee Mann is no exception. Only two years after her better-than-brilliant Bachelor No. 2 she has returned with a new long-player that, in a perfect world, would bring her endless adulation and international acclaim. Or so we hope.
In many ways Lost In Space, with its themes of depression, addiction and disillusionment is a digression from the slightly more positive songs on the last album. But then Mann has always had a passion for melancholy and the exploration of loss, and that is exactly what propels her toward greatness.
Even a cursory listen will reveal numerous drug references throughout the album, some glaringly blatant, others more clandestine. The opening cut and lead single “Humpty Dumpty” touches on the lateral effects of self-abuse, as the protagonist warns her lover that “all the perfect drugs and superheroes / wouldn’t be enough to bring me up to zero.”
“High on Sunday 51” takes the same scenario and inverts it, as two dilapidated souls cling to each other only to bring each other down in the end. Mann demands a sharp ear from her public, and double entendres like “let me be your heroin” establish a narcotic-as-savior dynamic.
As good and challenging as these songs may be, it is difficult to distinguish one from the other, even after several spins. Mann rarely works outside of a mid-tempo 4/4 drumbeat, which severely limits her songs. This pattern makes songs like “Today’s the Day” dissolve into the rest of the record, with little to distinguish it from other like tunes.
Again, there are signs of progress. On “Invisible Ink” her disaffected voice occasionally toys with more adventuresome melodies and the George Martin-like cellos punctuate this tale of stilted confrontation and painful self-realization.
In reading the descriptions of these songs, you would be right to assume that this is something of a heavy album. Mann’s approach to difficult topics is somewhat resigned and never emotional or claustrophobic. She doesn’t offer much of an escape, but these issues cannot be resolved in a single album.
Even if you can’t personally relate to addiction, denial or self-hatred (and who can’t?), this album will be, in some cathartic way, enjoyable. Do yourself a favor and listen to what the Mann says.
