Reviews

Artist:Vanessa Peters
Album: Modern Age
Label: Idol
Tracks: 11
Website: http://www.vanessapeters.com

Constructed around formative demos recorded on road in the Netherlands and Germany during her last tour and polished up by Peters and her band in Italy, this finds her in a decidedly more guitar rock vein, albeit still with country influences bubbling below the surface.

The title track opens proceedings and leaves you in no doubt that this one is going to flex its musical muscles and anger with its staccato guitar stab intro before easing back into a more Alanis/Sheryl swagger on a song about the not always welcome march of progress ("my favorite memories were made on grandma's porch/I still look for it when I drive by, but it's not there anymore/when she passed on they tore it down/poured a ton of concrete in the ground/and put up a giant box with fake hardwood floors") and today's disposable culture ("as soon as it's made, it gets thrown away") and its always-on lifestyle ("I still remember when our phones would get turned off/sometimes we'd just be unavailable after ten o'clock and it wasn't any kind of crime").

'Make Up My Mind' slows the tempo down to a steady walking rhythm but keeps the guitars sharp as she sings about taking control of herself and situations, regardless of the pain ("I'm not so brokenhearted I can't rearrange these deck chairs one more time"), and carrying on as if nothing's happened ("'cause most of us are as happy as we wanna be") but confesses to being still plagued by doubt and the need for approval ("if I could just make up my mind/tell everyone what I'm worth…stop being afraid/listening for the crowd's roar").

'Crazymaker' by contrast is a propulsive chugger, but again turns the gaze on not getting a grip and letting people or circumstances take charge of her ("all that I did wrong was let yself get strung along/it's too easy to make excuses for a faker/but I do you the favor, forget /your bad behaviour/we'll just chalk it up to my failure to see/you were a crazymaker, a bomb about to crater/I was looking for a savior, shame on me"). Taking a bluesier 80s FM rock approach, but continuing on the theme of being unable to make the break from a toxic relationship, the piano-led 'Valley of Ashes' has her "wasting all my time away sitting by the door waiting for the bell to ring". Here she describes the relationship as "you love me like an object" and that image carries over into the jerky staccato guitars, pulsing strobe-rhythm 'Hood Ornament', only this time turned back on the narcissistic other half of the relationship ("you've got a choir of yes men to sing all your praise/I'm stuck here playing second fiddle") with his coterie "standing guard" against any attempt by her to assert herself ("took my place up on the stage at the big event/all alone in a crowd of men/one of them looked me up and down and said -- I thought you were the hood ornament").

Extending the metaphor, moving from its initial initially more strummed folksy style to a soaring, hook chorus air punching approach, 'The Band Played On' (an allusion to the Titanic orchestra) finds her attempting to ignore the facts in the hope things will turn the corner, drowning out the alarm bells by playing "happy pop songs" turned up "way too loud", because to give up and walk away would mean "the bastards won" so, instead, "I'm coming at 'em like a cannonball".

Somewhere between Pat Benatar and Suzanne Vega, the catchy driving 'Never Really Gone' finally has her tentatively getting back in touch with herself and that "it feels good to push the bruise and realize it's gone/it's just skin, there's nothing bleeding underneath/nothing damaged or torn/and I don't trust it yet but I stuck a toe out on the ice/maybe coming back didn't make it crack/it's clearer in hindsight/that I was never really gone".

There's further Vega echoes on 'The Weight of This', a midtempo ballad that breaks out into a big, energy glowing chorus and which underscores the way she can modulate the power and expression of her vocals, that pushes the relationship to slip the chains ("I don't need you to be apologetic/I need you to be decisive and make the final cut/you're not saving anything by giving it a softer landing") but still can't shake the marks they have left ("so now that we broke free and dodged the bullet/tell me why it's so hard to just let go of it") leaving her still with "the constant lo-hum buzzing of regret inside my ears".

Even so, as unfolded by the dampened repetitive drum beats and throbbing bass lines of 'Yes', finally calling a halt has to be better than her bottling everything up ("I keep my fists balled by my side and my lips pulled back real tight") and putting on a smile and accepting "always being passed up when I was clearly next" just because of not having "the courage to put my anger to the test".

It's clear by this point that this isn't about just some romantic relationship turned sour, but also, as a woman, about not letting the system (be it the music business or whatever) run or label you (" know that I don't play all their silly games/I just do it my own way").

Having vented feelings, the album heads to a close with a return to an upbeat, flying free musical drive with The Try that turns to mountaineering metaphors to talk about the struggle ("it's an uphill climb for our heroine/the sun is setting, the air is growing thin/and I can hear the cheers from all my friends/from the safety of base camp") in coming to the understanding that it's ultimately not about winning or losing but about making the effort and not taking the easy option, so that you don't spend a life consumed with regret, and, while the wounds may till bleed, while the need may still burn inside, it's important to "open up my hands and free them for receiving".

And, so it ends with the drum thumping, guitar ringing optimism and positivity of 'Still Got Time', to take control of the fears that hold you back because that's the only thing that keeps you where you are as she exultantly sings "as long as you're hearing this/you've still got time to shake off your loneliness/you've still got time to make your own happiness…'cause you can master your circumstance/you're the one in control of drawing your every breath and choosing your starring role/so get a hold of your feet and use them to carry you right into the street". An album of grasping self-empowerment, of refusing to let others define you and of playing that guitar like it's part of your very fibre, Vanessa Peters walks it

Mike Davies

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