I like sad songs. More specifically, I like sad songs about love and romance and all of that. And I like circular albums, albums that tell stories about true love that's gone awry. You listen to the singer lament the loss of his love for a couple of songs, wondering why this happened, what he did, what she did, why he doesn't need her, why he does need her, and then it ends with closure. Maybe I like stuff like that because it gives me hope. No matter how far I am from finding true love, it will eventually come back around to me.
Lips That Taste of Tears is that kind of an album. It investigates all of the facets of a love gone awry. But it sure takes a long time getting there, and it takes a few unexpected (and unnecessary) turns along the way.
At its heart, Lips That Taste of Tears is a gorgeous pop album with some truly moving lyrics. At its best, it's full of bittersweet pop tunes delivered with a certain openness that's refreshing. Unlike a lot of post-breakup songs, which are full of bile and bitterness, Bob Wratten (the band's main man) isn't afraid to tell you that he spent hours in the bedroom, crying his eyes out and writing pop songs in a little notebook he keeps under the pillow. He's stared out of the window in his bedroom at the falling rain, and he's done all of those dreadfully clichéd things we all do after a break-up -- and he's not afraid to admit to it.
Lips That Taste of Tears is a journey through a breakup, where you listen to every painful stage. "Headlights" sets the stage, when Wratten opens up with "I nearly thought that maybe she could be the one to set me free," and continues to ruminate over his lady love. It's like rummaging around through home movies of all of his dates. "Never Loved You More" is a classic country ballad, without the country part. A lonesome harmonica echoes Wratten as he tenderly sings "I'm so far from being over you/I'm so far from being over you/I still just want to be yours/I've never loved you more." over soft acoustic guitars and percussion.
Earlier, I mentioned how I like albums with closure. In "Farewell To Forever," Wratten finally croons "I don't know what my future is. I just know who it isn't with." Ouch... one only hopes that whoever left this boy realizes the terrible mistake she made.
Unfortunately, some bouncy and bright Saint Etienne-esque songs are sprinkled through the album's 70+ minutes. I don't know if they were thrown in as a sort of breather from the mood, but they seem out of place compared to the rest of the album. By themselves, they wouldn't be so bad. In fact, they're quite catchy. But with songs like "Made For Each Other" and "Farewell to Forever," the last thing I want is catchy. I want to cry, dang it, not dance.
Overall, though, the pop side of this album wins out. The sparkling guitars, string arrangements, and Wratten's pure and clear voice shine through. In some ways, it's an album that tries to be epic, and in some places doesn't quite make it. And sometimes, it comes across a little too light and fluffy, almost in danger of being crushed by its own mopeyness. But when that right word is sung or that right chord is strummed, Trembling Blue Stars becomes a band for every broken heart simply because Wratten will sing everything we would (or could) never say.
Similar sounding releases
2005Sinéad O'ConnorCollaborations
2000Phil KeaggyInseparable
1994NewsboysGoing Public
2005MobyHotel
1998Sue RinaldiPromise Land
1998John AustinIf I Was a Latin King
