Occasionally, an album or film has the misfortune of being released the same week as a critical darling, causing it to either be forced under the radar or unfairly compared to the other work.
In late August, Wu-Tang member and recent Tufts performer Method Man released an extremely consistent album, only to have it overshadowed by another album released in the same week: The Roots' "Game Theory," regarded by critics as the most creative and ambitious hip-hop album of the year.
Last week, the star-studded Will Ferrell film, "Stranger than Fiction" was well reviewed, but came in second at the box office in large part because of the hype and controversy regarding "Borat," a film that took a significant chunk of attention and potential viewers away from any other new comedic release.
Unfortunately for Isobel Campbell, the sultry former Belle and Sebastian cellist/vocalist had the misfortune of releasing "Milk White Sheets," her second album of 2006, the same week as sultry folk singer Joanna Newsom's "Ys," a deep, grandiose folk record that has been the year's most critically acclaimed album in the genre.
Although it may not be entirely fair to compare these two albums, the artists' similarity and the timeliness of the two releases make a comparison between the two albums unavoidable. And while "Milk White Sheets" is an enjoyable, autumnal throwback to 1960s-era British folk, it is not without its shortcomings.
Campbell's best asset has always been her voice. It's not a "great" voice by conventional standards: Her rasp has the range of about four or five notes. It is, however, immediately recognizable and unique, successfully conveying a sense of intentionally girlish innocence. Whether singing pop hooks for Belle and Sebastian or engaging in alt-country collaborations with Mark Lannegan in "Ballad of the Broken Seas" this year, Campbell's seductive voice has always added a considerable amount of charm to any of her projects.
Sitting on the surface of the album's bleak, expansive landscape - frequently containing only arrangements of classical guitar and subtle layers of strings - it is safe to say that Campbell's voice is not only the driving force of the album, but has also never sounded better on record. Unfortunately, Campbell has trouble carrying the entire album by herself. Campbell was certainly effective as a member of Belle and Sebastian and on "Ballad of the Broken Seas," but in those situations, she had a great vocal counterpart on her side, compensating for her shortcomings as a singer.
On her own, Campbell's lack of vocal range is a detriment to "Milk White Sheets." While the instrumentation and song choices clearly try to enforce a familiar theme of '60s-era British folk - tranquil on the surface but haunted and disturbed below the surface - Campbell's voice prevents that goal from being fully realized, consistently veering toward the former rather than the latter. An example of this is "Willow's Song," a cover of "Willow's Song" and the theme from the original version of the horror film "The Wicker Man" (1973). (Campbell's version actually appeared in the movie's far inferior 2006 remake, appropriately enough.) Based on the instrumentation and source material, the song is clearly intended to be haunting and powerful instead of the actual result: too cutesy and never able to break below the surface. Cutesy is nice, but it's also good to have a change of pace once in a while.
Looking at it as a solo folk album, "Milk White Sheets" - a great deal of which is an adaptation of traditional British folk songs - feels slightly repetitious and doesn't give the listener a great incentive to listen all the way through. Considering that the majority of the source material, including re-workings of "Reynardine" and "Loving Hannah," is classic and timeless, the album is certainly a charming listen, a nice detour from the dark theatricality of "Ballad of the Broken Seas." What "Milk White Sheets" lacks, however, is the impact and potential staying power of her previous albums and of her nu-folk contemporaries.
