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Ms. John Soda, "Notes and the Like"
I'm not used to Ms. John Soda feeling fuzzy. Their sound tends to be more crisp, precise, and often coolly (if not coldly) digital, as if you could feel the ones and zeros scraping past your ears. But "A Nod on Hold," the opening song from Notes and the Like, is teeming with a bubbly electronic bed, couched in a serenade of strings. It's fluffier and warmer than usual for the band, who espouse a pop-electronic ethos while still clinging to a rock ideal which helps to make their songs more angular.
The Couch/Notwist hybrid duo return to form throughout the rest of the album, though "A Million Times" might be an additional glitch of fuzz on the album. Stephanie Böhm's wispy vocals are the centerpiece of each song, adorned elegantly by Micha Acher's playful electronics. Acher's machinations seem to operate independently of Böhm's voice, as if the one or the other was unscripted. Yet the two intertwine seamlessly and inexplicably in each song. Böhm's vocals are at their best and breathiest on "Hands," one of the albums two anthems (I'll let you find the other). Two-thirds of the way through the song, all the music dissipates except for the thematic siren-like notes and the vocals. This carefully-measured moment crystallizes how delicately Böhm enunciates her words and how perfectly Acher props his partner with articulate foundations of sound. Rockier numbers like "Scan the Ways," "No. One," and "Outlined View" are a pleasant obverse to the poppier bits of the album, albeit it an expected one.
Ms. John Soda's first album contained the same dichotomy in approximately the same proportions. The first few seconds of "No. One" (re-recorded from the While Talking EP) remind me of a Rodan song, but I can't recall which one. The two bands are hardly relatable at first thought, but the more I listen, the more I can hear Tara Jane O'Neil's earlier and uncultivated voice in Böhm's. The previously-released "Sometimes Stop, Sometimes Go" (also from the While Talking EP) still stands out as a highlight and you begin to understand why they included it on this album. It features both modes of Böhm's vocals: the spoken (droll, heavy) and the sung (light, ethereal even), wherein the contrast of the two is where the success of the song hides. "Plenty Of," the album's closer, is marked by a somber tone absent from the other songs. The strings lament, Böhm exhales monotonously, and Acher, always disciplined, restrains himself from doing too much with the parting coda. It's a true goodnight ballad, ending suddenly without significant closure.
Does it end with a kiss, a silence, or a phonecall tomorrow? I can't quite tell, but the question still resonates and I try to listen intently for the answer each time.
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