It is fitting that this album found a home on David Tibet's Coptic Cat imprint, as it is not only unusual, but unusual in a rather novel way: Thiel's lilting, simple ballads (backed by Michael Cashmore) hearken back to a much more innocent time.  On one hand, her wide-eyed, poetic lyrics and earnest delivery recall the golden age of English folk, but in another (weirder) sense it feels like she is quixotically making pop music for an era that is either long departed or never existed at all.
I have to admit that I probably would not have given this album too much attention were it not for the involvement of Cashmore and Tibet and their historic good taste.  That is not to imply that Steffi is somehow lacking as an artist, but there are some superficial issues that I had quite a difficult time getting past.  The first and most conspicuous is the almost total lack of any textural grit or melodic edge or dissonance (traits that the crystalline production only enhance).  For the most part, Steffi's songs are very pretty and bright, with only occasional passing shadows.  Also, her voice is very strong and pure, which reminds me of an earlier era when the actual quality of someone's singing voice was considered important.  It reminds me of show tunes in a weird way too, but without the hostility that usually accompanies such thoughts.
Unfortunately, the album also features one unambiguously baffling misstep: the song "Circling Suns" features a very "'80s hard rock" electric guitar crescendo that totally disrupts the album's prevailing aesthetic and makes me wonder what the hell Cashmore and Thiel were thinking.  That concludes my formal list of grievances, but I also wish Cashmore had stepped into the spotlight a bit more, as I always enjoy his work.  I certainly cannot fault him for allowing this to be Steffi's show though (and his closing untitled instrumental is a pretty decent consolation prize).
Thankfully, I was able to get past most of my issues to some degree (with repeat listens) and realized that there is a bit more substance to Late But Never than is apparent on its surface.  Most of that depth is lurking within Thiel's lyrics, as her deceptively pleasant cooing conceals unsettling lines like "dead factories on smoke grey mornings...the factories, they snap at girls like you."  Also, in a less specific sense, Steffi's words and aesthetic seem to be completely guileless and utterly detached from anything resembling popular music circa 2012.  Whether that is due to naivete or a bold, pure vision is a mystery to me, but it is certainly refreshing and unusual in any case–there is a real sense of joy, exuberance, and authenticity here.  Consequently, it is hugely frustrating to hear that vibrance and heart buffed to a professional sheen.
The raw material for something much better is certainly here (charisma, strong melodies, bittersweet and poignant lyrics, solid songwriting, effective arrangements, etc.), but it is all too bright, smooth, and insubstantial to connect with me on any kind of deep level.  That said, there remains some rather beautiful pieces (particularly "Tonight" and "A Bird") and a whole lot of promise–it just all could have been much more compelling to me if the production had matched the intimate, homespun feel of the songs or if mixing duties had been handed over to someone a bit more deviant and ambitious.
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