Yet another woman is seeking to place herself atop the rock pyramid. Courtney Barnett, an Australian singer-guitarist, garnered much deserved attention with her 2013 release “The Double EP: A Sea of Split Peas.” Her blend of solid musicianship and lyrical prowess left many high strung in anticipation for her next release.
Barnett’s sing-speaking and slacker persona is uncanny of the modern musician – both of which have matured exponentially within her proper debut album “Sometimes I Sit And Think, Sometimes I Just Sit.”
Aesthetically, Barnett could come off as a '90s rip-off. Her grungy hair and unassuming clothing are hugely typical slacker-rock characteristics. A few seconds into the album though, and it’s evident this woman is nothing short of genuine.
“Put me on a pedestal, and I’ll only disappoint you,” Barnett raves. “Tell me I’m exceptional, I promise to exploit you.”
Barnett’s mundane quarter-life crises and self-deprecating reflections make for raucously hilarious songs that mostly anyone with a bit of awareness can appreciate. Her dense accent carves the perfect backdrop for lyrics like that.
“An Illustration in Loneliness,” exemplifies the humdrum day-to-day of pedestrian life. There’s simply no one around that can make staring at a wall, contemplating the finer points of plaster cracks as inherently catchy as Barnett does.
And that’s really the essence of “Sometimes I Sit” — existence can be a bummer. But that’s not to say Barnett is depressing. No; if anything, her music is uplifting and strangely inspirational. Every line about procrastination and sleepy revelations is sang with a vigor and purpose that’s infectious and frankly charming.
Opening track “Elevator Operator” is written about a seemingly suicidal young man and completely representative of Barnett’s bizarre novelty of making fairly dark or boring subjects catchy.
The stark character development and driven narrative reminds me of Bob Dylan — a compliment none should take lightly — hinting that rock music has possibly found its modern day social commentator.
Barnett has chops as a guitarist, too. Look no further than the sprawling “Small Poppies” for proof. The melancholic beginning eventually gives way to a brisk tremolo picked guitar solo that could go on forever and still remain effective.
The seriously moving moments like on “Boxing Day Blues,” an acoustic gem about her tendency to disappoint lovers, add dimensions to Barnett’s songwriting. Her whispered lullaby voice here contrasts with the rest of the album, but proves versatility.
“Aqua Profunda!” brings back a glam-rock boogie from an era past. “Debbie Downer” is headed by a garage-rock organ melody that’s relentlessly poppy. The rapid-fire “Pedestrian at Best” is Barnett commanding her ‘90s indie influence so effectively that if it were released 20 years ago, it would probably have been a charting hit.
Barnett even manages to throw an anthem in the mix with “Nobody Really Cares If You Don’t Go To The Party.” It’s easy to picture thousands of excited fans jumping around and hollering the instantly recognizable chorus — “I wanna go out, but I wanna stay home.”
While none of the music itself is overly impressive, when you have such a talented and snarky humorist like Barnett gluing it all together there’s an undeniable craftsmanship that platforms an album without a single bad, or even average, track.
There’s obvious influence from equally singular ‘90s artists like Liz
Phair and Kurt Cobain, but Barnett has no trouble etching out her own
distinct place in that era’s canon. The entire album sounds familiar and
ingeniously inventive at the same time.
“Sometimes I Sit” is
the makings of a renowned career. If a 27-year-old Barnett is already
singing with this much poignancy and insight, the days to come bode well
for her. These sorts of talents only better with age.
Tell the reporter about your opinions on Courtney Barnett at nlatona@asu.edu or follow @Bigtonemeaty on Twitter.
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