Two Louies Magazine - S.P. Clarke

In the '90s Anny Celsi was associated with the pop band the Tearjerkers, as well as her own vehicle, Annyland- obtaining critical praise for both ventures, though perhaps not the hoped for public response. Still, despite numerous setbacks, she persevered, spending several years to record this, her first solo project.

With the help of several long time industry friends- including drummer Kevin Jarvis (Johnny & The Distractions, the Riflebirds), who co-produced and played on this album; multi-instrumentalist Marvin Etzioni (former Lone Justice), who was briefly involved with the Riflebirds in the mid-'80s, before their eventual demise; and guitarist Steve Barton, who was the impetus behind the great Bay area '80s new wave band Translator- Celsi cuts through a baker's dozen original songs, ostensibly inspired by Raymond Chandler/Mickey Spillane style (though the lead track, "T'was Her Hunger Brought Me Down" was supposedly inspired by Theodore Dreiser's Sister Carrie) detective stories.

Each "reference quote," selected for nearly every song, refers to the off-handed, cynical literary style made famous by the detective novelists of the mid- 20th century. While it is not clear exactly from where these "reference quotes" are derived, nor who wrote them, Celsi's "story" songs do reflect a certain literary bent. Think of Victoria Williams, Aimee Mann, Suzanne Vega and Sheryl Crow mixed together and you begin to get the picture.

Anny is pretty much their equal as a songwriter. However, here, her rather thin voice, somewhat similar to Margo Timmins of Cowboy Junkies, sometimes suffers from poor intonation, which occasionally lessens the impact of her well-written, well-played songs. Despite this, Celsi has a sultry, intimate quality to her voice that works well for her in the context of her songs (she wrote twelve of the thirteen, with Barton providing the other number). It just seems, on occasion, that someone else might do a better version of some of her songs than she could.

With Randy Weeks of the Lonesome Strangers providing banjo backing and Phil Parlapiano (Tracy Chapman, John Prine) adding accordion and piano, Celsi outlines a meeting of portent, with ultimately tragic consequences on "T'was Her Hunger Brought Me Down." "No, it ain't the fall that kills you/It's your meeting with the ground/If it's beauty that compels you/Then, its hunger brings you down."

The title track is an Etzioni produced piece, whose arrangement recalls Marshall Crenshaw, but whose subject matter recalls Sandi Shaw ("Always Something There To Remind Me") from the '60s, with a little Aimee Mann and Chrissie Hynde thrown in. "Summer Fling" sounds as if it were extracted wholesale from the '60s, as if Mary Wells had cut an unknown hit that was only now coming to the fore.

The spittin' image of Aimee Mann, down to her shuffling cadence and wry insights, "It Hurts/My Heart/To Hear/Your Voice" lacks a strong enough chorus to put it over the top, but is a winsome broken love song, all the same. "All I'm Gonna Say" walks down noirishly dark alleys, with Carl Byron's roiling piano fills and Barton's simmeringly psychedelic wah-wah guitar.

Strong imagery and a brassy harmonica propel "Empty Hangers" whose powerful verses fail to lead to a melodically satisfying chorus. Still, Anny's lyrics are intriguing "Every girl deserves a nervous breakdown/Don't ya think she's got what it takes/Would you listen if she told you/She was just about to fold from holding that basket of snakes," in the verses, "She hides a heart as soft as motel soap/She glides with hands as rough as hangman's rope/She slides a little further down the slope," in the chorus.

Not one of her stronger songs, "Can't Win 'Em All" is a simple, Lisa Loeb sort of view of life, full of Sears catalog images and television commercial emotions. Anny's reedy harmonica returns on "He's Always Looking At The Sky," leading to some fine interplay with Robert Lloyd on accordion, to create a sort of cabaret number, filled with sarcasm about an "important man." Dylanesque.

Chrissie Hynde comes to mind again on the sizzling "Wicked Little Heart," as does Julie London (if she were singing in the late 20th and early 21st century), a song about love and treachery and the tangled webs we weave. The story line to the pretty waltz "Shut Out The Shine" nearly sounds like a scene out of Sunset Boulevard. "Call down to room service, tell 'em I'm sad/I want some oranges, I want 'em bad/Sure you've been travelin' longer than me/Distance is something you no longer see." A wistful, pretty song.

Anny Celsi is obviously a very talented woman, with a writer's eye for detail; and a wit honed from the better part of brevity. Her songs have distinct lives of their own, which dwell independent of each of their counterparts on this album, yet they proceed like a book of short stories. Obviously, this was her goal in the first place. Without a doubt, she has succeeded handsomely in her intentions.

S.P. Clarke, Two Louies Magazine
http://www.twolouiesmagazine.com/may_03_gbu5.html