Soundtrack for a Boxer
This article is from the archive of The New York Sun before the launch of its new website in 2022. The Sun has neither altered nor updated such articles but will seek to correct any errors, mis-categorizations or other problems introduced during transfer.
On her 2001 album “Lost in Space,” singer-songwriter Aimee Mann claimed she was “pouring quicksand,” adding that “sinking is all I had planned.” But, for a musician of the doom-and-gloom variety, Mann is remarkably adept at keeping her head out of the sandpit. She possesses a sangfroid rarely found among rock musicians. Mann’s latest album, “The Forgotten Arm,” is a modest departure from what came before.
“Bachelor No. 2,” which preceded “Lost in Space,” was a carefully crafted album full of dulcet sounds: xylophone, horn, melodic guitar and bass, and electronic beeps. In an even, restrained voice, Mann offered biting assessments of the romantically challenged. The didactic impulse fell away on “Lost in Space,” and the album’s slow pace and woozy guitar gave it an air of resignation.
But Mann’s best songs are born out of the tension between a sense of self-awareness that can be crushing and the need to probe deeper. “The Forgotten Arm” takes as its premise that “kicking is hard, but the bottom is harder.”
Last month, Mann performed songs from the album at the Virgin Records downtown. While her thin body occasionally swayed to the melody, Mann’s face betrayed little emotion and her eyes were intent. The performance was a testament to Mann’s detachment from her characters and her skill at rendering emotional landscapes with such clarity. “The Forgotten Arm” is a narrative of woe about a troubled boxer’s relationship with a down-and-out woman. Each song functions as a chapter in this story.
The form is suited to Mann’s talent for probing into the heart of relationships. Few songwriters today can describe messy lives with such clarity, as when she sings, in “The King of the Jailhouse”: “The King of the Jailhouse and the Queen of the Road / Think sharing the burden will lighten the load.” Mann’s knowingness can be intrusive – she rarely tells a story without providing commentary – but it is difficult to disagree with her trenchant observations.
Aimee Mann will perform June 10 (Roseland Ballroom, 239 W. 52nd Street, between Broadway and Eighth Avenue, 212-489-8350).
