Aimee Mann Albums (7)
What The Critics Say
Arguably, Aimee Mann hasn't released a simple collection of songs since her 1999 breakthrough with the Magnolia soundtrack and its cousin, Bachelor No. 2. Her releases since then have been prominent and respected, yet they played as explorations, with 2003's Lost in Space floating in the ether and 2006's The Forgotten Arm qualifying as an outright concept album. With @#%&*! Smilers, she returns to simply writing and recording songs, a back to basics that isn't quite so basic, as it finds Mann livelier and snarkier than she's been in a while. That censored profanity in the record's complete title -- it's easy to see but not say or write -- is a tip-off that Smilers has a defiant cynicism rippling throughout the record, something that's welcome after the careful craftsmanship of The Forgotten Arm and the spacy sleepiness of Lost in Space. Although this could hardly qualify as a bold departure -- there is nothing surprising about the arrangements, which still bear the ghost of Jon Brion although he is long gone -- Smilers pops with color, something that gives it an immediacy that's rare for an artist known for songs that subtly worm their way into the subconscious. That still happens here, of course -- one of Mann's greatest strengths is that her songs unfold slowly, seeming indelible after a few listens -- but Smilers grabs a listener, never making him or her work at learning the record, as there are both big pop hooks and a rich sonic sheen. At its heart it's just a collection of songs, but it's that rare thing for a songwriter: it works as a piece of writing and a sterling pop album of its own. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide
'One More Drifter in the Snow'
Release Date 10/24/2006
Tracks 10
Label Superego
See Album Tracklist and Review
What The Critics Say
There's not much in Aimee Mann's past that would suggest that she would record a holiday album. Ever since launching a solo career in 1993 with Whatever, she's steadily built a reputation as a consummate singer/songwriter, renowned for her intelligent craft, which perhaps peaked around the turn of the century when she provided songs for Paul Thomas Anderson's third film, Magnolia, which led to her excellent third album, Bachelor No. 2. Since that project, Mann's work remained at a typically high level, but her subsequent albums -- 2002's Lost in Space and 2005's The Forgotten Arm -- were a touch too studied and deliberate, certainly not the kinds of records that would point the way toward a holiday excursion like 2006's One More Drifter in the Snow. Not that this Christmas album is far removed from the music Mann has made over the past decade: it's hushed and intimate, filled with antique keyboards that occasionally exude a mildly carnivalesque vibe, so it does feel of a piece with Mann's last few albums, yet the tone is different. Of course, part of the change in tone is that this is a holiday album, and Mann clearly intends for One More Drifter in the Snow to be played alongside classic '50s Christmas albums from Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin. This album has a similarly appealing, warm and lazy, jazzy vibe -- a sound that evokes the holiday season for millions of listeners, and Mann should be commended not only for nailing that sound, but writing an original called "Calling on Mary" that fits comfortably next to "I'll Be Home for Christmas" and "Winter Wonderland" (her husband Michael Penn's "Christmastime" also fits nicely). So, the album feels right, but even better for Mann fans -- especially those skeptical about a Christmas record -- One More Drifter in the Snow finds the singer/songwriter in top form as a performer, turning in the loosest, friendliest recording she's made in years. There's little of the self-consciousness that hampered Lost in Space and The Forgotten Arm; she sounds as if she's having fun making this music, which not only makes for a good Christmas record, but bodes well for her next proper pop album. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
The prospect of an Aimee Mann concept album concerning an addicted boxer returning from the Vietnam War isn't necessarily enticing, but after the meandering, adrift Lost in Space, a change of pace of any kind is welcome for the acclaimed, gifted, and increasingly predictable singer/songwriter. Mann must have sensed this too, since she not only committed herself to a narrative song cycle, but she cut the record live with a new band under the guidance of producer Joe Henry. The results aren't quite as different as you might expect -- her music is very much in the vein of Bachelor No. 2, right down to the vague carnivalesque overtones associated with Jon Brion -- but the project helped focus Mann both as a writer and a record-maker. The songs on The Forgotten Arm are sharper, stronger, more memorable than those on Lost in Space and the performances are robust and lively. As the record progresses, the songs take on a certain samey quality -- a flaw that's not uncommon to Mann's albums -- but as individual cuts, the songs are quite strong. That is a bit of an oddity for a concept album, but the concept seems like a MacGuffin anyway, a way for her to write some stark songs about addiction and to force discipline upon herself. She had a similar situation with the songs from Magnolia that spilled onto Bachelor No. 2 -- when she had to fit her tunes to the requirements of Paul Thomas Anderson's film, it made for better music. While the music here isn't as good as that on Bachelor, the strict structure does help give The Forgotten Arm direction, helping shape it into one of her more consistent albums. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
It is, in a sense, a trick of the times that Lost in Space conveys such a vivid visual quality; thanks to the high profile given to her music on the Magnolia soundtrack, it's now impossible to miss the narrative strength of Mann's writing. The mood throughout this album is autumnal, with filmy keyboard beds and expressive shifts between major and minor enhancing the subdued eloquence of her lyrics. (A major chord at the end of "Guys Like Me offers an ironic twist on the smug portraiture that precedes it.) Though recorded free of the legal snarls that plagued most of her previous albums, Lost in Space seems to be mainly about alienation and, at least as a metaphor, addiction. The latter point is made clear in "This Is How It Goes," with its assertions that "it's all about drugs, it's all about shame." But it's clear as well when Mann offers to "be your heroine" -- or is it heroin? -- amidst slithering slide guitars and rainy gray textures on "High on Sunday 51," or confesses to seeking salvation where "It's Not." Recorded largely in Ryan Freeland's home studio, some of these songs receive discreet electronic treatments -- moments of abstract noise whose application always enhances the otherwise low-tech arrangements. For all the shadows that stretch across Lost in Space, what lingers in the wake of this music is the realization that Mann remains spectacularly underrated among contemporary songwriters; no one surpasses her as a master of poetic regret, and few albums examine the peculiar beauty of depression with the skill she brings to Lost in Space. ~ Robert L. Doerschuk, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
It's no shock that Aimee Mann's Bachelor No. 2, or the last remains of the dodo sounds identical to her songs for Paul Thomas Anderson's Magnolia, since it was written and recorded at roughly the same time (the two records share four songs). Yet Bachelor No. 2 is hardly a retread, having its own identity and flow; it's more intimate, a little more fragile, a little more craftmanslike -- more like an Aimee Mann record, really. That, of course, is not a bad thing, especially since Mann has never sounded as assured as she does here, nor has she ever had a better set of songs. Surprisingly, this cohesive album was produced by a handful of different producers and Mann collaborated with three songwriters (Jon Brion being the most noteworthy of both categories). It sounds like the work of one writer and one production team, which is testament to the fact that Mann has finally found the ideal sound to match her literate, mildly self-deprecating, clever, melancholy, melodic style. Bachelor No. 2 is crisp, clear, and direct, but deceptive. It's hardly a guitar-and-voice record, there are layers of details in the arrangements, particularly in how the various guitars and keyboards weave seamlessly together. There has never been a better sound for her songs, and she's never been more consistently compelling as a writer either. To call Bachelor No. 2 a masterpiece may be overstating the matter somewhat, since an album this unassuming (but not unconfident) is too intimate to be labeled as such, yet it isn't hyperbole to call it the finest record Mann has made to date. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
From the opening of "Long Shot," with its rolling hip-hop-derived beat and its nonchalant profanity, it's clear that Aimee Mann is trying to appeal to a wider audience with her second solo album, I'm With Stupid. Taking her cues from Liz Phair and Beck, she adds alternative rock flourishes to her music but never abandons her love of the basic, three-minute pop single. Mann builds from the more pop-oriented songs on Whatever, incorporating her confessional singer/songwriter instincts into the pop songs while working with a more adventerous production and instrumentation. Occasionally, the fusion is a bit awkward, but the best moments on I'm With Stupid -- the sighing "Choice in the Matter," the nearly perfect "That's Just What You Are," featuring backing vocals by Glenn Tilbrook, and the Bernard Butler collaboration "Sugarcoated" -- surpass even the best moments on Whatever. However, I'm With Stupid falls short of matching Mann's debut for consistent song quality -- there are several tracks that are pleasant but simply don't lead anywhere. Nevertheless, the album confirms that she is a distinctive, talented songwriter. At her best, she is as capable of melding melody with intelligent lyrics as her idols Elvis Costello, Difford/Tilbrook, and Ray Davies. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
On her solo debut Whatever, the former vocalist for Til Tuesday cements her position as a center-stage artist and top-notch songwriter, and Aimee Mann's blend of wit, smarts, cynicism, and downright humability make for a wonderfully pleasing collection of catchy songs. Musically, the jangle-pop feel of Whatever harkens back to the Beatles and the Byrds but without forsaking its contemporary origin. Lyrically, it is often hard to know whether Mann is spilling her guts out over a love or a deal gone bad. In fact, it is often a combination. But the seamless ease with which she tells the tales, moving from her head to her heart and back again, exposes her mighty talent. Teaming with some of her former bandmates, including longtime collaborator Jon Brion, gives Mann a comfort and a sure footing from which to climb and stretch, which she does with certainty. "I Should've Known," "Could've Been Anyone," and "Say Anything" get the heads bobbing, while the more somber "4th of July" and "Stupid Thing" will beckon forth even the loneliest of hankies. And how many artists pay tribute to Charles Dickens? (Witness "Jacob Marley's Chain.") Talk about literate songwriters and you have to speak of Aimee Mann. The dismissive tone of the title belies the time that was put into this album, for even after its recording, it took Mann quite a long while to find a home. Initially released on Imago Records, Whatever was later reissued by Geffen Records. ~ Kelly McCartney, All Music Guide
