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CHARA

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A little more, again, please?

Let’s get one thing clear: Chara has an amazing voice.

Her fragile, child-like whisper is off-putting on first introduction, but eventually, the expressiveness and range of that voice feels comfortable, familiar even.

Too bad her most recent albums have been really boring.

The last time out with Madrigal, Chara delivered a very non-descript performance in which her band nearly drowned her out for most of the album. A mix of incongruent material didn’t help either.

Yoake Mae addresses most of those problems, keeping mostly mellow throughout, and allowing enough room for Chara to take over. But is it enough to make it worth a listener’s while?

On the first half of the album, she really makes her presence known. “Beautiful Day” doesn’t attempt to hide its “Perfect Day” lineage, and Chara sounds great posing as a modern day Lou Reed. “Mieru wa” possesses a subtle charm that lingers long after.

“sweety” demonstrates Chara’s under-utlizied ability to get dramatic without using too much volume, and on “Hatsu Koi”, she lets her roar come out.

Chara manages to hold onto the momentum of Yoake Mae as the tracks progress, but right around the half way mark — specifically, “Hello” — the momentum deflates.

“Hello” is the most drawn-out, meandering song on the album, and after that, Chara sounds too bored to put up the effort. If anything, “Heart no Hi wo Tsukete” led into “Hello”‘s deflation by allowing Chara too much room to whisper.

The next two tracks somehow manage to erase the memory that Yoake Mae even had movement.

The sparse “Beautiful Scarlet” does shine a very soft but intimate spotline on Chara’s voice, and “I wanna freely love you” makes a vailiant effort to recover some of that motion.

But by the end, the same problem which hindered Madrigal makes itself apparant on Yoake Mae — these songs just aren’t memorable enough for Chara’s unique perforamnce to make a dent.

Sort of like a line from Haruki Murakami’s Hear the Wind Sing: ” … the dreams of her seventy-nine years dispersed like a summer shower on a shopping street, leaving not a thing behind.”

Unfortunately, that just about describes the effect of listening to Yoake Mae — you don’t remember you just had.

A little more, please?

Oh, how I’d like to give Madrigal a glowing review.

It’s Chara, after all.

One of the most unique voices in the Japanese music. A sort of saccharine Macy Gray, with a lot less sandpaper in her throat. A singer with a distinct vision of what her voice ought to achieve.

And on Madrigal, Chara again finds seeks out music that suites her unique set of pipes. It’s just not very memorable music.

There certainly are some bright moments. Former Smashing Pumpkin James Iha opens the album with two incredible songwriting contributions, “Boku ni Utushite” and “Skirt”. Of the two, “Skirt” is the hands-down gem, a sugary pop confection made bittersweet with Chara’s husky delivery.

The album’s first single, “Lemon Candy”, makes for a nice companion piece to “Skirt”, and “Caramel Milk,” which was written by Ivy’s Andy Chase, has a nice leisurely pace.

But for the most part, Madrigal is inconspicuous.

Only on a few tracks does Chara ever reveal the power her voice holds. She sounds great when she’s whispering, but she shouldn’t hinge an entire album on it.

The band nearly drowns Chara out on “Tameiki no Mi”. Her non-descript delivery on “Kanashimi to Bi” probably possesses more fire than the song lets on.

“Kokoro no Ki” just kind of waddles, and even on “TADD”, the fastest, boisterous song on the album, Chara barely registers.

As a result, what should have been a strong collection of neo-psychedelic rose-colored-glasses pop-rock turns into a belaboured performance.

The two versions of “Skirt” on this album aren’t enough to really make it interesting.

And that’s too bad. Chara is a riveting performer, and the hippie vibe that permeates this album fits her like a velvet, diamond-studded glove.

Just wish she sounded more interested in it.