SECRET SONGS by THE AUTUMN RHYTHM
— Best of My Worst —
— Secrets —
— 1992 —
— Not on My Life —
— Still There —
— Can’t Say Anything —
— Bury Me Standing —
— Afraid to Fall —
— What I Thought —
— See You Again —
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CD
MP3
MDRF004 | SEP 2003 | 28:18 | Full Length CD
“Elegance shouldn’t come easily, and elegant simplicity should be damn near impossible. That’s why it took one-time high-school sweethearts Valerie Allen and Eli Queen more than three years to compose their gentle country-folk debut. With the help of like-minded artists like the Ladybug Transistor, Bill Wells and Kevin Barker (Currituck County), the Autumn Rhythm folds fingerpicked folk in with unassuming harmonies and an atmosphere of spare sounds that indeed seem full of secrets. There’s nothing cloying about Allen’s slightly raspy, breaking vocals or the demure guitars. Rather, the rainy-day reverb and simple melodies drip with the dark charm of Felt or the slow-burn pathos of Retsin. Secret Songs is at its best when the songs develop and resolve quickly, as on opener “Best Of My Worst” and standout “1992.” These tracks jump into a mood and evoke it briefly, letting repeated listens confirm emotional depth rather than endless, self-satisfied rambling. Like obvious country and folk influence the Carter Family, the Autumn Rhythm knows that tightly written verse and solid pieces of melody don’t need to wander and drag to resonate.”
— J. Gabriel Boylan, MAGNET Magazine
Over a decade after Galaxie 500's heyday, another Boston group steps into that slow, minimal, somnambulant, ultraquiet pop sound derived from one side of the multifaceted Velvet Underground. Only instead of Dean Wareham's high-pitched warble, there is the more comforting cooing-mother tone of singer Valerie Allen. Some critics have compared her to Cat Power's Chan Marshall, but she really sounds more like the Cranberries' Dolores O'Riordan, without the big major-label production (this is more defenseless and direct). The LP is well-named; she and other half, Eli Queen, along with guest drummer Lou Miller, keep it plain, with ringing chords undercut by barely there basslines, and fills-less drumming, all aided by Gary Olson of Ladybug Transistor and Bill Wells' no-frills, hushed engineering. Sometimes when the cupboard's so bare, there's the mystery of all the empty space one can play in.- Jack Rabid, AllMusic
MORE REVIEWS
The Autumn Rhythm craft haunting, minimalist songs of blissful sorrow -- music that truly wears its heart on its sleeve. Their honest, understated melodies are punctuated by Valerie Allen's lush vocals in a style that has been described by The Village Voice as 'intimate, narcotic, and surprisingly mature.' The Autumn Rhythm have further garnered comparisons to the Velvet Underground, Galaxie 500, Ida and Cat Power. Secret Songs offers an irresistibly sad and dreamy collection of pop songs with a powerful female lead. Albums this moving don't come along very often and we're sure you'll agree that this is a stunning debut from a promising young band. — Forced Exposure
Boston's Valerie Allen and Eli Queen met in high school, fell in love, and formed the Autumn Rhythm, which is basically Allen singing and playing guitar while Queen plays bass. Their debut release Secret Songs features 10 tracks and 28 minutes of simple guitar lines, soft-but-commanding vocals, and little else. Yo La Tengo immediately springs to mind, but the Autumn Rhythm's just not that good or interesting. It also stays far more subdued (like And Nothing Turned Itself Inside-Out Yo La), and never raises its voice above a sad whisper. However, it's probably unfair to compare these newcomers to indie stars, especially when the band's projects do differ.The Autumn Rhythm centers on Allen's vocals. She's got a lovely voice, and she's emotive without being melodramatic. The restraint serves her well at times, but also lends to the general monotony of Secret Songs. With a sound like Sinead O'Connor's, Allen has the potential for a quality performance, but this disc isn't the one. Her lyrics are moving when intelligible, but too easily lost.
The music, too, is an easy take. The hooks and melodies lie over basic arpeggiated guitar parts. At its best, the Autumn Rhythm sounds like Luna or Galaxie 500. It too frequently fails to catch the "pop" part of "dream pop", however, and weights the eyes more frequently than something this light should. As background couch music, it's fine, but it's not varied enough to hold one's attention.
One of the tracks worth paying attention to is "Bury Me Standing", which is itself buried late in the sequence. It begins with the by-now-usual guitar work, but the heavy drum pulse adds an important element. At the two-minute mark, the guitar starts a steady crescendo accompanied by cymbal taps. Just when you need a release, the band drops back into its verse, and Allen finishes her narrative. On the next track, "Afraid to Fall", Allen sings about the fear of losing something good. She shows the power of inertia in the dualistic line: "I'm sorry, but I haven't done anything at all". At one moment, it's an apology from the guiltless; the next, it sounds like an apology for being frozen by fear. It does not contain the most original sentiment, but "Afraid to Fall" is a direct and appealing song, the type that only a band as willing to be as vulnerable as the Autumn Rhythm can produce. A track like "Afraid to Fall" is easy to miss, though, because nothing noticeably separates it from the surrounding nine songs. It would be very difficult to describe any song on this album with the phrase "the one where", because the tracks are all the ones where the same old things happen. The songs have sadness, wistfulness, and anxiety, but each of these sound the same, and that's a problem.
The Autumn Rhythm is named for a Jackson Pollock painting, one of those splatter-works that at first glance look the other splatters, until you look closely at them and see the details: the use of color, the structure, the overall mood. I'd like to say that I had an epiphany about Secret Songs in which I realized the subtle nuances of each track, and pulled out the differences. I'm a bit of a fibber, but not that much of one.
It's funny to think of Pollock painting being alluded to by a band this subdued. His other painting that I associate with music is White Light, which is part of the cover of Ornette Coleman's Free Jazz. On that album, Coleman and his double-quartet take risks, experiment, and generally run amok. Pollock's painting sounds much more like a Coleman run than an Autumn Rhythm drone. I'm not suggesting a band has to sound like a painting looks -- just that it should sound like something. — Justin Cober-Lake, Popmatters