Amanda Leigh is Mandy Moore's full given name, so it stands to reason that this, her sixth album, finds the pop starlet turned singer/songwriter getting real -- not necessarily confessional, but intimate, a record that follows the form and feel of her AAA makeover, Wild Hope. Amanda Leigh improves on that mannered, earnest record not by abandoning or heavily reworking the template (one that has essentially been in place ever since Mandy discovered '70s singer/songwriters on her 2003 covers album, Coverage), but by strengthening its foundation through working with sympathetic collaborators, chiefly Mike Viola, the singer/songwriter behind the Candy Butchers who has also written period-specific pastiches for the films Walk Hard and That Thing You Do. Viola works on all but one song here -- Lori McKenna, a Wild Hope veteran, is responsible for "Every Blue" -- and Inara George, half of the Bird and the Bee, contributes to three tunes, and their work helps steer Moore toward the neo-classicist pop she's been striving to create for the better part of a decade now. Echoes of her oft-cited '70s pop inspirations abound -- particularly Joni Mitchell, but also Harry Nilsson on the tinkling pianos of "Pocket Philosopher" and Todd Rundgren, whose influence reverberates on "I Could Break Your Heart Any Day of the Week," the liveliest thing here -- but emphasizing these influences too strongly is misleading, suggesting Amanda Leigh is a funky hippie throwback when it's very much a product of its upscale tasteful times, a clean, classy collection of AAA pop recalling a user-friendly Fiona Apple or friendlier Jenny Lewis as much, if not more, than a '70s canyon lady. Everything about Amanda Leigh is just a shade too precise -- the production too transparent, the singing too on the nose, the mood too subdued -- to achieve the homespun quality Moore so cherishes, but a large part of Mandy's appeal is her good taste and her clean way with a song, something that is readily apparent and often winning on Amanda Leigh. She'll never be a child of nature or a pop auteur -- she's still too much a showbiz kid for that -- but she has successfully dropped all the tacky accoutrements of her past and turned into a sweet, classy singer/songwriter whose charms are readily apparent here, her best adult pop record yet. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide
Since Mandy Moore lacked the hits and sharply defined persona of her immediate teen pop peers, she had the freedom to redefine her image in a way Britney or Jessica didn't. She could ease into adulthood while her onetime colleagues were stuck in a perpetual adolescence, falling out of cars and clothes (often simultaneously), slowly turning into pop culture punch lines instead of pop stars. Moore side-stepped such embarrassment by focusing on work, both as a musician and actress, picking projects that looked so great on paper that it almost didn't matter that the end results never quite lived up to their potential. This was as true for the 2006 silver screen American Idol satire American Dreamz as it was for her 2003 album Coverage, an attempt at covering great pop songwriters that proved Moore's taste, ambition, and smarts. Even if it wasn't necessarily compelling listening, it did provide a template for a mature Mandy Moore and Wild Hope, delivered four years later -- after a parting of ways from Epic, then an unsuccessful stint at Warner that resulted in no albums but led to a contract with EMI -- follows through on much of its promise. In most ways, Wild Hope is Coverage assembled with original tunes: it's a classy, burnished collection of adult pop, often built on acoustics but rarely seeming folky, because it places the emphasis on melody, like most pop music. Where that covers album occasionally seemed a little too earnest and stiff, Moore has corrected most of those flaws: her singing is warm, even soulful, while the music sounds lived-in, not overthought. Wild Hope has the right sound, which Coverage didn't quite, but it ironically falters where that album went right: the songs aren't that memorable. It's certainly not for lack of trying: Moore has enlisted such respected singer/songwriters as Chantal Kreviazuk, Lori McKenna, and Rachael Yamagata as collaborators, helping her inch toward confessional, introspective songwriting, an admirable ambition that falls short of being easy to embrace. There are some good turns of phrase here, some ingratiating melodies, but there aren't strong melodies, so the tunes aren't memorable outside of their gentle, comfortable feel. All the same, it's sure hard to dislike Wild Hope, because it's genuine in its intent -- Moore truly wants to deliver a record that sounds her age, in its feel and words -- and because Mandy is such an appealing, open-hearted, undeniably attractive presence. Whether onscreen or on record, she exudes likeability, so it's easy to listen to Wild Hope with all its flaws -- but it's just good enough that it's hard not to wish it were better. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide
Mandy Moore doesn't capture the headlines the way Britney, Christina, or, thanks to MTV's revelation of her status as the dumb blonde for the new millennium, Jessica Simpson do, but working under the radar is a good place for her to be. While greater attention was paid to her peers, Moore proved that she's a genuine, credible actress in A Walk to Remember and How to Deal, far outshining Britney's turn in Crossroads; she never succumbed to the Stripped antics of Xtina; and every career decision she'd made so far, choosing classy albeit glossy mainstream projects, displays that she has more smarts than Simpson. Where all the aforementioned divas were more or less hidebound to fashion and dance-pop, Moore decided to broaden her horizons and position herself for a long-term career with her third album, Coverage. With this record, she leaves dance-pop behind and heads toward mature pop -- and in a far more effective fashion than Jessica Simpson's Andy Williams revamp In This Skin -- by positioning herself, with the assistance of producer/engineer John Fields, as a pop/rock singer by covering classic singer/songwriters such as Carole King, Joni Mitchell, Carly Simon, Cat Stevens, and Elton John, as well as cult pop icons like XTC's Andy Partridge, Mike Scott of the Waterboys, Joe Jackson, and Todd Rundgren. Though the selections Moore and Fields have made are predictable -- each songwriter is showcased by one of his or her best-known songs, with the arguable exception of "Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters" for Elton and Bernie Taupin -- that does make sense, since it piques curiosity: listeners will want to know how does Mandy Moore sing "Can We Still Be Friends," "I Feel the Earth Move," and "Senses Working Overtime." The answer: pretty good, actually. Moore still has the problem of being a more likeable vocalist than a knockout singer, but she makes up for her lack of pizzazz through her hard work and good taste. While it is true that it is disarming to hear some of these songs cleaned and polished for mainstream radio, at times the reworking can be quite effective, as on the surging "The Whole of the Moon" (the best of the alt-pop reworkings) and the passionate take on Joan Armatrading's "Drop the Pilot" (the best singer/songwriter reworking). And while there is some awkwardness here -- mainly deriving from Moore's plain-spoken, earnest delivery and Fields' slightly fussy, slick arrangements not quite suiting the idiosyncrasies of these songs -- it's refreshing to hear an aspiring pop singer work with a strong set of songs by distinctive writers instead of cookie-cutter professional tunesmiths who only have the charts in mind. Moore and Fields still have the charts in mind, but they're trying to do something of substance within the modern mature-pop framework, and while Coverage isn't always successful, it is always admirable and likeable, and certainly puts Moore on the right path for an interesting, successful career. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide
Never let it be said that Mandy Moore, her label, and team of producers didn't work it. Once So Real failed to make headway, they retooled it as the "special edition" I Wanna Be with You, which wasn't a real hit, but it was a step in the right direction. Then, with her official second album, they finally got the formula right. Mandy Moore manages to pack more hooks, melody, beats, clever production flourishes, and fun into its 13 tracks than nearly all of its peers -- remarkably, it's a stronger album, through and through, than either of Britney's first two albums or Christina's record. That doesn't mean that it has singles as strong as those albums; even if the surging "In My Pocket," the faux-sitar spiked "You Remind Me," and hip-hop ballad "Saturate Me" are all fine tunes, meant to be played on the radio, they aren't as distinctive as "...Baby One More Time" or "Genie in a Bottle." Also, although Moore isn't a bad singer, she's not particularly charismatic, and the production team isn't as gaudily, enjoyably crass as Max Martin. So, why is Mandy Moore such a good record? Because of consistency. This may not hit tremendous heights, yet everybody involved is working so hard that they've managed to come up with a record that's consistently satisfying. It doesn't stretch the teen pop formula much, just enough to give the record character, and Moore delivers the songs sturdily, never taking the forefront, but blending into the lush, layered production, so the music just rolls forth as a whole. And that whole sounds great -- immaculately crafted, precisely polished, exactly what a teen pop album should be. Of course, it would have been greater if a couple of the songs were genuine knockouts, but usually this genre sacrifices consistency for dizzying peaks and it's refreshing to hear a teen pop record that plays like a record, instead of singles-n-filler. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide
Pop quiz. So, the album that you planned to be a teen pop blockbuster to rival BMG's massive success with Britney Spears and Christina Aguilera flops with nary a trace. What do you do? Well, if you're 550/Epic, faced with the flailing Mandy Moore debut, you shuffle the order of the songs, remix a couple of tracks, and shoot a new, sexy glamour shot of your underage diva so she looks shockingly like Britney. A crass marketing move, to be sure, but hey, tough times call for drastic measures like that. The thing is, the revamped, puzzlingly titled I Wanna Be with You [Special Edition] (thereby giving the impression that this is an extended EP release or that there's a "regular" edition of I Wanna Be with You, which there's not) works a lot better than its predecessor. Why? Because it's trashier, flashier, gaudier, and altogether more disposable: all essential ingredients for a good teen pop album, since it should be something that is of the moment, not designed for the ages. I Wanna Be with You is definitely, almost defiantly of the moment, and while there's more than its fair share of filler (let's face it, there was a reason why the album needed to be reworked), that filler glitters here where it was simply dull on the predecessor. And, most of all, it's pretty fun, whether it's on ballads or dance numbers. Moore still isn't as good as Britney or Christina, since she just doesn't have a comparable persona or material, but with this she vaults above Jessica Simpson and maybe, just maybe, captures the bronze for female teen pop divas in 2000 (Hoku being disqualified because she is pitched at a younger crowd). ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide
Fifteen-year-old Mandy Moore's debut album sounded like it was inspired almost entirely by listening to recent hit albums by 'N Sync, the Backstreet Boys, and Britney Spears. Tracks like "So Real" and "Let Me Be the One" clearly echoed "Backstreet's Back," and Moore's occasional growls were straight out of "...Baby One More Time." But the singer seemed to have aimed at a slightly younger demographic: Her initial single, "Candy," pointedly described love in terms of sugar treats, as if she weren't sure whether she wanted to be at lovers' lane or a snack bar. Naturally, all of the songs adhered to the second-person form of address, in which the singer was continually exhorting "you" and "boy" to do something of a romantic nature ("Walk Me Home," "Lock Me in Your Heart," "Quit Breaking My Heart," "Let Me Be the One"). But things always remained chaste, whether she was declaring, "My innocence won't be denied" in "So Real" or suggesting the "uncharted territory we'll discover" before quickly adding, "You'll always be my dream lover," in "Lock Me in Your Heart." Meanwhile, of course, the downbeats, as high in the mix as those of any disco track, slavishly propelled the songs to mid-tempo rhythms. Moore can carry a tune, but with no particular distinction, and since the songs were generic expressions of the type, the real questions seemed to be, could she dance, would her videos be good, and how would she be marketed? As So Real was being released, "Candy" was moving up the charts purely on sales points, since radio had become resistant to adding more teen queens, while MTV had yet to bite. All of that had more to do with whether Mandy Moore would succeed than did the music, which was mediocre, but typical. ~ William Ruhlmann, All Music Guide