Jenny Owen Youngs Albums (2)
What The Critics Say
Jenny Owen Youngs stuck to the singer/songwriter handbook on her 2005 debut, making occasional diversions from the tranquil, acoustic-based material with barbed songs like "Fuck Was I." Four years later, Transmitter Failure finds the artist widening her reach with electric instrumentation, collaboratively written tracks, and a genre-spanning wealth of material. "Led to the Sea" is the most immediately striking tune here, a fusion of bass-heavy verses and buoyant, stomping refrains, but Youngs' biggest asset is her willingness to explore vastly different territory, both musically and lyrically. "Here Is a Heart" peppers its elegant chord progression with some unexpected culinary imagery -- "Here is a heart... battered and braised, grilled and sautéed, just how you like it" -- while "Clean Break" likens a quick breakup to surgery, with neo-jazz melodies and spaghetti western guitars adding color to such stark lines as "Just sterilize the scalpel and let's get this over with." Youngs' ability to confidently jump from genre to genre owes a sizable debt to producer Dan Romer, who laces her music with strings, ukuleles, horns, and harmonies (most of them sung by Bess Rogers, sideman extraordinaire and a solid songwriter in her own right) as he sees fit. Even so, Youngs is the true star here, and the studio polish that coats Transmitter Failure only makes the album more palatable. ~ Andrew Leahey, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
Jenny Owen Youngs looks like she might be another typical, long-haired hippie waif with guitar -- then she opens her mouth, and your jaw drops. Youngs' voice has that delicate, childlike quality that plagues many a folksinging female, but when she digs into a song, the dissonance between her sweet alto and the acidic images she uses to paint her bittersweet portraits of life and love is startling. "Porchrail" opens the album with a backing band that sounds like the Violent Femmes. It's a simple acoustic rocker, with a swing feel that conveys the nervous energy that floods the body when you see someone you really want and probably can't have. The jittery beat and Youngs' pleading vocal create a mood of panting desire held in check by shyness and insecurity. Meanwhile, "Fuck Was I" is a self-flagellating tale about being in thrall to a lover who can never do you any good, and yet the love abides. Her matter-of-fact vocal and the song's lilting beat make her use of the F word actually sound shocking, something that's increasingly hard to do in the 21st century. On "P.S.," Youngs plays the banjo in an arrangement with French horn, cello, bass clarinet, and foot stomps. The result sounds kinda like a Tom Waits song, dripping with irony and full of unexpected musical touches. Every song here uses the same basic formula -- dark thoughts set to uplifting music -- but it's a formula that works amazingly well. Youngs has an uncanny insight into the pains and insecurities that plague us all when we're in that vulnerable, confused position of wanting love and feeling unworthy, or wanting out of a relationship and being unable to cut loose from the obsession that makes the pain hurt so good. She also has an original voice and an ability to find light even in the darkest situations, making this a very polished and cohesive first album. ~ j. poet, All Music Guide
