No one gets this defensive without pressure, and Barnett has it; after collecting high praise in her native Australia, she's been steadily picking up momentum worldwide. Like it or not, she's been pegged in many circles as the blessed/cursed "next big thing", something shiny and new to be adored for six months while critics and fair-weather fans wait for something newer and shinier. On Pedestrian at Best, she sees it all coming and it's thrilling, maddening and terrifying.
The cruel irony is, Pedestrian at Best is such a great song that it just might act as a self-fulfilling prophecy; her whip-smart, wordy delivery is at peak efficiency and the chorus hits with blissful force. Then, there's that guitar, recalling the manic energy of Kurt Cobain; his influence looms largest over the record and, while many bands try to replicate that ragged charm, Barnett is especially genuine in the recreation (maybe it's because she's left handed).
Make no mistake, Sometimes isn't a roaring teen angst diatribe, and Barnett's heroes aren't all guys. There are hints of Sheryl Crow (most vividly recalled on An Illustration of Loneliness), Liz Phair, Kim Deal and, yes, even Courtney Love here. There are also echoes of Jeanette Napolitano and PJ Harvey, the two influences both heard on the hazy, sprawling and stunning Small Poppies.
As pleasant and varied as the music is, the top strength of Sometimes is its lyrics; Barnett is an incredibly gifted wordsmith and she introduces a lot of people and places, from the gloomy hometown she's stuck in on Depreston to the young man who's finally reached adulthood only to find it wasn't what he'd hoped for on Elevator Operator to the foggy-goggled swimmer crushing hard on Aqua Profonda! among many others. The way she presents it all renders even the most mundane subject matter interesting and even the strangest characters identifiable.
There will be some who criticize Barnett for being a bit on the nose with her retro '90s callbacks (if there were ever three words that make me feel incredibly old, you just read them), but those people are nitpicking and probably don't remember the '90s fondly. There isn't anything on the album that screams out "plagiarism", and nothing feels contrived or disingenuous. It's simply a student sharing what she's learned from rock n' roll, and passing the final exam with flying colours. Which is a roundabout way to say what the record lacks in originality it more than makes up for in execution.
Through all the hype that's been heaped upon Barnett (and trust me, there's plenty more to come), there may not be many who choose an Arctic Monkeys comparison over a Nirvana one, but I have to admit Barnett shares more surface commonalities with Alex Turner than Kurt Cobain. She deals more in despair than outright self-loathing, with traces of the hopeless romantic Turner's morphed into of late. Her fascinating character studies also remind me of the sordid tales that bolstered Arctic Monkeys' first couple of albums (not to mention the fact that she also seems keen on fitting as many words as possible into a majority of songs). The most glaring similarity is, of course, that massive wave of hype; the Monkeys managed to weather the critical acclaim (Whatever People Say I Am...) through fits of restless experimentation (Humbug) en route to eventual worldwide domination (AM). Whatever trajectory Barnett chooses remains mystery (although it would be absolute serendipity if her fifth album is titled CB), but it's clear from the staggering quality of her debut album that she's going to be put on that pedestal, willingly or not.
March 23, 2015 • Mom + Pop
Highlights Elevator Operator • Pedestrian at Best • Depreston
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