Despite the label of "tribute" given to Rouse's album 1972, each subsequent album has had that same feel; that soaring orchestral work and danceable, swaying vibe. Subtitulo has that same type of feeling, but there's a little more guitar work that we heard on "Under Cold Blue Stars".
I can't quite put my finger on it, but Rouse has a certain otherness to him that a lot of other singer/songwriter types don't have. Perhaps it's the full band feel and that Nashville sound inherited from Kurt Wagner, but maybe it's also the adult contemporary touches he puts into the instrumentation. A little bit David Gray makes me a little wary to heap praises on him.
Subtitulo opens with "Quiet Town", a finger-picking, Simon & Garfunkel-esque pop slide that reminds me of southern hospitality, but it's more likely identifying the serenity of Spain, where Rouse is currently residing. He's actually splitting time between there and New York, which explains the sort of Central Park-ish guitar trot in "Summertime". Actually, it's more of a samba, bossa-nova pop song, but what the hell do I know about Latin music? I do know that "Summertime" reminds him of "finger-banging", unless I'm guilty of terribly misheard lyrics. If I'm not to blame, I'm a little bit afraid that "finger-banging" means something else than what I have grown up to think the words mean. Either way, there is something semi-sexual about hot summer nights, and it paints a pretty picture of the romanticism of summer in Spain.
If Nashville was a funeral, Subtitulo is a birthday party. I feel like Rouse is trying to regain some of that innocence that you lose when you break up with someone; "It looks like love is gonna show it's face" beats on some jazzy thump, broadway style stomps. It's good to know though, that some of that can be recovered, and with time the pendulum swings back to where you want it to be.
The album begins to drag noticeably by the fourth track with "La Costa Blanca", but comes back with a vengeance with the Abba-esque strings on "Givin' It Up". If there were really a modern-day equivalent of Yacht Rock, this would be it.
On "The Man Who..." there's a very simple and repetitive chorus; Rouse's girlfriend sings in a terribly charismatic Spanish accent, but more than that, it's a husky, sexy sound that goes well with Rouse's lilted semi-gruff patina. Initially very captivating, but a little too temporary - I had the song in my head for days, but by the 7th or 8th time of hearing it, it got a little boring, which is fine, because by then other songs began to serve as fine substitutes. A welcome little album, much more benign than Nashville and not as outlandish as 1972, it will serve as a nice go-between for the hours between 10 and 11 on 80 degree summer evenings. I like the sun where it is, thank you. |