BETTIE SERVEERT: PRIVATE SUIT (2000)
1) Unsound; 2) Satisfied; 3)
Private Suit; 4) Mariachi Souls; 5) ReCall; 6) Auf Wiedersehen; 7) Sower And
Seeds; 8) White Tales; 9) John Darmy; 10) My Fallen Words; 11) Healer.
Finally, upon their fourth try, they manage to
get it nearly right — or, at least, as right as possible for a band deprived of
original vision or melodic genius. Private
Suit is the first Bettie album that I would gladly recommend to anyone,
regardless of one's general attitude towards the «indie spirit» of the 1990s. And
not just for the sexy album cover, either, even though the sexy album cover is
already a good hint at some changes to come.
They went to PJ Harvey's producer with this
one, and whether or not this was what made the difference, the sound of Private Suit is a radical departure
from the old style. Suddenly, the songs begin to come together rather than fall
apart; the sound becomes softer and glossier, more «pop» than «rock», but in a
pleasant, tasteful way; new instruments, like lotsa keyboards, make a welcome
entrance to cheer up the sound. But most importantly — this is the album on
which Carol van Dijk finally learns to sing, or, at least, decides to learn to
sing. Or, even more accurately, this is an album on which she adopts a
slightly more feminine image (check the album cover again for immediate visual
reference!) and engages in a little smooth acting, instead of simply spitting
it all out like a Riot Grrrl aficionado.
Already the first song, ʽUnsoundʼ, shows signs
of all these changes, and it would be hard to believe that we are listening to
the same Bettie Serveert. Lively tempo, swirling organs, guitars that sound
more like R.E.M. than Pavement, and a singing voice that is probably an octave
lower than Carol's usual style — the "it's good to be unsound, uh-uh"
chorus sounds like Lou Reed. No screeching or drowning the listener in pools of
distortion, but still plenty of energy and conviction, even if the actual hooks
as such are still rather weak (but the shrill Visser guitar solo at the end,
rising above the general level of the song and unexpectedly pulling it straight
up into the stratosphere, is top-notch).
For ʽSatisfiedʼ, they choose a different
strategy — more psychedelic, with droning guitars, multiple layers of
mood-setting keyboards, melancholic cellos, and a vocal delivery that aims
straight for the subconscious (the «nasal-somnambulant» type, with overdubs that
have Carol engaging in a dialog with herself in the chorus); again, not a «great»
song, perhaps, but surely an intriguing one, worth revisiting at least to make sure exactly how much
you have missed — a sentiment that was consistently lacking for the first three
albums.
Only the third track (title one) finally sounds
like good old Bettie: ragged-nervous strumming, quavery, shaking, arrogant
voice, and noise-a-plenty in the outro section. In other words, the usual under-written
borefest, albeit even that one is still given extra support from a string
section. But guess what — it is the only
trace of good old Bettie on the entire album. Everything that follows once
again obeys the new laws, which demand clear production, well-rehearsed
singing, and musical diversity, from the acoustic folk balladry of ʽMariachi
Soulsʼ to the Cure-like mope-pop of ʽReCallʼ to the music hall piano waltzing
of ʽMy Fallen Wordsʼ to the ultimate conclusion of ʽHealerʼ, which has a little
bit of everything (some post-punk, some rhythm & blues, some art rock) and,
for once, makes «Bettie Serveert-style depression» a reality.
But the best song of all is ʽSower And Seedsʼ, where
the lead singer even tries on a bit of world-weary falsetto for good measure,
and the combination of guitar distortion, organ, and that oddly drugged-out
voice comes very close to striking out some real magic. Perhaps they were going
for a Portishead emulation or something — anyway, it's not tremendously
original, but it sounds convincingly tragic. The puzzle of it all, of course,
is that songs like ʽSatisfiedʼ, ʽSower And Seedsʼ, and ʽHealerʼ all give us a
completely new artistic philosophy — Bettie does not really serve any more, but
goes into depressed, deeply wounded seclusion instead, and somehow it becomes
her more than when she was all raving and ranting on us. Of course, that might
simply be my ugly male chauvinist side speaking up — but then again, I've never
pretended liking female rock acts merely for the fact of their lead characters
showing «strong personalities», since «strong» by itself never guarantees «emotionally
or intellectually interesting». Private
Suit, on the other hand, is Bettie Serveert's most emotionally and intellectually interesting album up
to that particular moment, and it guarantees the band a far more assured and probably
un-retractable thumbs
up than Dust Bunnies.
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