Album Review: She & Him - Volume Two
- Written by Paul Brown
Much has been made of the unlikeliness of the pairing of Zooey Deschanel and M. Ward. Around the release of She & Him’s debut effort two years ago, references to the improbable juxtaposition between the fantasy object of choice for indie boys the world over and the folk troubadour became pretty tiresome in the end. Thankfully, Volume One became one of those depressingly rare records where the music spoke louder than the backstory which accompanied it, and it was received well on its own merits as a record of charming, sun-kissed pop.
Volume Two, you won’t be surprised to learn, is no great departure from that template. It sees Ward and Deschanel serve up another set of refined, summery morsels. Ward’s instrumentation and Deschanel’s distinctively lovelorn delivery combine to produce a shimmering combination of country, folk and classic 60s girl-band pop. The point at which the two became a ‘proper band’ is unclear, but at no point does this album fall into self-conscious collaboration hell. Instead, the chemistry between the two means it always makes perfect sense.
Clearly, if you’re not a fan of the Deschanel’s out and out tweeness, then this record is not going to change your mind. Those who find her in any way annoying are advised to stay away, because they will inevitably be infuriated by her vocal characteristics and simplistic lyrical style. Indeed, even the most well-intentioned of listeners could find the whole thing a bit cloying, because at times it feels like you’re trying to swim through a sea of the gloopiest honey. But, if you’re taking the album at face value, as nothing more sinister than a dreamy, breezy little pop record, then it can be placed alongside other dainty popstrels like Camera Obscura in terms of quality.
Things start off at a fairly languorous pace with ‘Thieves’ on which a particularly heartbroken-sounding Deschanel pines that “A love like ours is terrible news”. From this point onwards, the album drifts along in placid fashion, from the bobbing refrain of ‘In the Sun’ to the naggingly catchy piano-led ‘Don’t Look Back’. The most saccharine moment on Volume Two, and probably the song which Zooey-haters will hold up as an example of her evil powers, is ‘Home’. It feels briefly like a rare thundercloud is threatening to break the muggy air of the album, until the chorus kicks in, the sun bursts through and the song becomes a sultry exercise in girliness which sees her repeatedly cooing, “It doesn’t get better than home, now, does it?”. The elements of the record that prove to be most impressive are those where the classical pop influences are at their most obvious. ‘Over It Over Again’, in particular, is all layered backing vocals and rickety piano and guitar, and the result conjures up the same intangible wide-eyed splendour which characterised the best Spector recordings.
Volume Two is a well-timed release, poised perfectly to capitalise on the occasional (okay, rare) bouts of sun we get in this country at this time of year. It is a beautifully-realised progression from classic records of bygone days, which benefits from the painstaking care which has clearly gone into its production. Its unrelenting sweetness will probably prove to be divisive, but it would take a hard heart not to succumb to its charm.