Roundtable Review / Sharon Van Etten / Tramp
It’s that time again, friends, time to gather around the table and share our thoughts on certain special albums. The subject this time is Sharon Van Etten—the woman, the myth, the legend. Alright, there’s nothing really mythical about her but she is a legendary woman, and her newest album, Tramp, is released and ready for listening and debate. We have all eight of our writers contributing their thoughts here. Dig in, explore our opinions, and share your own in the comments!
I’d like to start by saying that I love hearing an alto (and a damn good one at that) that isn’t trying to pretend that she’s from the 1950’s or has a $ in her name. The one thing that impresses me the most about Sharon Van Etten‘s voice is its ability to fit in so many places. Back her up with symphony, a rocking band, or an acoustic guitar and she’ll knock it out of the park, regardless.
A third album is a feat unto itself but it comes with expectations. If a debut album is great, a sophomore album will come with huge expectations but is allowed to not be quite as good (my opinion of course). Sometimes magic strikes the first time (see Bon Iver and The Antlers). A third album must show growth, must show that the artist knows what the audience wants, and must prove to me that buying a fourth album will be worth it. The third album is a turning point and damn it I’m a Van Etten fan for life.
Tramp has two big tunes that I eat up, “Serpents” and “Magic Chords”. “Serpents” of course was the single that all of us indie nerds heard before starting to count down the days for this album to come out. The best part about “Serpents” is that it is huge and heavy in every aspect, but you could strip this song down to an acoustic guitar and foot stomps and it would be every bit as good. Fast forward a bit and “Magic Chords” comes in with a slow-paced snare and drawn out tones. Then she grabs your hand and walks you through the first verse, and then she hits you with a chorus that should be listened to by every ambitious young person in the world: “You got to lose / you got to lose / you got to lose some time.” Loaded, potent, and perfect. It’s her little bit of advice that she’s passing on from her experiences. I really enjoyed Tramp and it will probably be included in my favorites from 2012. I’ll leave you with this thought: after 3 albums of angst and animosity towards the dudes in her life, what kind of album would she make if she found love?
I was a Sharon Van Etten virgin. I knew diddlysquat of her work, other than the fact that her name continually crept up more and more on every music blog visited. I goggled her and lo-and-behold her photo revealed a mature-looking, real-life Amelie! Cool!
So I sat down for my initial Tramp listen. It starts with spits of shadowy noise overtop a dirty rhythm guitar and a cute but not-trying-too-hard-to-sound-cute vocal on opener “Warsaw” … not bad! At first I couldn’t help but ponder that her voice sounded so damn familiar. I remembered Elizabeth Frazier (Cocteau Twins)’s dreaminess, Edith Frosts‘ suavity, and Liz Phair‘s no-bullshit sexiness (the album IS called Tramp)—all compliments, mind you! I’m just happy her production team didn’t Enya things up with weird vocal effects because, while not overly gravelly, her voice and lyrics work best in a pretty straightforward solitary sort of way.
The album’s reclusive spirit doesn’t creep up until the damn-awesome second track, “Give Out.” Even the acoustic guitar’s strum pulsates with sadness across the song’s four minutes (seriously Ms. Van Etten, how many lonely candles were used to mood-light the recording studio?). In all fairness, I doubt Ms. Van Etten aims to depress us. Instead she strives for some goosebump-enducing climactic moments, which exist with the cheeky “Ask” and the uplifting drones during “I’m Wrong.” I wish things ended with “I’m Wrong,” the album’s centerpiece, since closer, “Joke or Lie,” may be the weakest song of the bunch.
Nothing matches the thrill I felt after the first thirty seconds of the too-short opening track; it reminded me of my excitement when hearing “King of Carrot Flowers Pt. 1” for the first time. The remaining batch of songs will remain on my iPod for a few months until I eventually forget about most of them. She’s not groundbreaking by any means, but I see the appeal.
I haven’t heard any music by Lana Del Rey. I haven’t even seen her reportedly disastrous Saturday Night Live performance. But the other night I sat down and listened to Sharon Van Etten‘s Tramp and I gotta say that I think this Lana Del Rey woman isn’t the thrice-named chanteuse we should all be talking about. Van Etten is.
Granted, Del Rey has rubbernecking novelty on her side, but Van Etten has chops, which were presumably finely tuned over the course of her first two albums, neither of which I’ve heard. The things I know about Tramp could be counted on one hand, and probably on one finger, because the only thing I know is that this was produced by The National‘s Aaron Dessner, and seeing as how he represents 1/5 of my favorite band ever, it was preordained that I would love Tramp and I do. “Serpents” could be sung by National-lead singer Matt Berninger and be a B-side to High Violet.
But Van Etten is more than just a surrogate for my National-loving desires, she’s a force with which to be reckoned. My first run through Tramp was with the album on in the background, and it insisted its way into the foreground. I can’t remember the last time I discovered, and appreciated, and came to love an album in a setting other than my car, or in my headphones, but Tramp deserved it, or practically required it, alone in my living room, honestly. There’s something so fundamentally intimate about the songs here, that it asks to be heard by itself, thinking about little else but Van Etten‘s breathy voice and excellent taste in atmosphere.
The chorus of “Leonard” sticks out for me, most notably for its matter-of-fact prettiness. The path her voice travels is positively gorgeous, but it’s placed unceremoniously in the context of a fine folk song. I think it’s a moment that’s reflective of the album as a whole; pretty without really knowing it, gorgeous without making a fuss about it, lovely by not trying to be. And really, if ye shall judge them by the company they keep, Van Etten is more than worthy of respect.
I’m a huge Sharon Van Etten fangirl. I was obsessed with Epic in 2010, so much that I bought a copy on vinyl, took it to her Pittsburgh show in April 2011 (she opened for Iron & Wine) and had her autograph it. I love that album a lot, guys. So it’s kind of an understatement to say that I’ve been looking forward to Tramp’s release. I preordered my vinyl and got a ticket to see her in D.C. this weekend (what if she didn’t announce a Pittsburgh date?!?!?) (She has now, by the way. I’m crazy).
What do I think of Tramp? As with every release, Van Etten seems to gain confidence; instead of passively moping through heartbreak, here she’s angry, and less apologetic. With help from The National’s Aaron Dessner as producer, the tracks sound fully fleshed out, no longer just a singer-songwriter cradling an acoustic guitar. But that being said, I’m not fully in favor of this transition. Something is lost with the addition of layers of droning guitars and guest indie acts sprinkled throughout the album. I just want to hear Van Etten. Her voice is unique, elegant and beautiful, and it’s somewhat masked on Tramp. Van Etten’s lyrics are the heart of her work, and the simple arrangements of Epic allowed them to be showcased. There were barely any instruments to hide behind, and it gave the album a bare-all, honest feel that I loved. It’s harder to get there on Tramp.
My favorite tracks on the album are the ones that could theoretically be at home on Epic, such as “Kevin’s,” “Give Out” or “All I Can” (which reminds me of “Don’t Do It” with a bunch of added layers). And I guess that’s my biggest beef with the album – there’s just too much going on, and it doesn’t always feel authentically Van Etten. “Serpents” is a great track, but it’d be more at home on one of The National’s albums. Given the large number of indie guest stars, I do think Van Etten does an excellent job incorporating them almost seamlessly. The exception is my least favorite track, “We Are Fine,” which features Beirut’s Zach Condon, who gets his own verse. His voice always feels like an abrupt hiccup in the song, and it just doesn’t work for me.
Overall, I still enjoy Tramp. There’s a lot of good stuff here, and I’m looking forward to seeing it performed live this weekend at the Black Cat in D.C. (and probably again when she’s here in Pittsburgh in April, who am I kidding). The album doesn’t resonate with me as well as Epic did, but it still deserves a spot in my collection.
I kinda suck at this. How do you explain something that hits you on such an emotional, basic level? Sharon Van Etten’s new album, Tramp, hits me like that. And I thought of many, many different ways to present my undying love for this album, but each was shittier than the last. I could do a Sharon Van Etten acrostic (S is for Stellar; H is for Heavenly; A is for Awesome; R is for ridiculously amazing; O is for … this is where I started to run out of steam). I could post a video review on YouTube in which I randomly start shot-gunning beers and then begin to cry as the pure emotion Van Etten emotes wallops me. (I have always wanted to be a YouTube/viral sensation, but I sense this is not the way to do it.) Since all of my grand ideas are so incredibly lame, I figured I would play this one straight.
Tramp is a bold artistic statement. It is fully formed and delivers on all the promise Van Etten demonstrated on her first two albums. The album is paced incredibly well. Each song is strong and dynamic. All of Van Etten’s friends, including Wye Oak’s Jenn Wasner (!!!!), make really subtle and undeniable contributions to the album. (And when you have talented friends like Van Etten, how can you possibly fail?) In my real-life job as a journalist, I loathe hyperbole or when people say something is historic and game-changing. I want to make bold claims about this album, but I will keep it simple: This is a great album, one which is delivered by a clear-voiced artist. I couldn’t recommend it enough. Thanks, Sharon.
I’ve listened to this album diligently over the past few weeks. I was a huge fan of Epic and pretty much wore the vinyl’s grooves out with excessive playing. I’d heard “Serpents” quite a bit before acquiring the full album and was pretty excited for what that song may be foreshadowing. Unfortunately, I’ll admit, I’m a bit disappointed. I’m being totally honest here. I could spin it and say this album speaks to me and all that jazz, but honestly, it just doesn’t. I like the sound of Tramp and think a lot of the songs are quality, but it just doesn’t take it to the next level for me like Epic did. The truth is, I can’t say why I feel this way (or don’t feel) and that fucking kills me. I think Van Etten has an amazing voice and she’s a passionate songwriter. I have no qualms about the production and a lot of the songs are real keepers (“Serpents, “Warsaw, and “Magic Chords” immediately come to mind) but as a whole, I find the whole affair unexciting and slow moving.
Unfortunately, Tramp missed the mark and it’s a collection of some really nice songs, some really slow songs, and lacks the flow that I think an album should have. It really upsets me to say these things and goddamn it if I didn’t try to see the bigger picture. Maybe I got too close to “Epic” and can’t get away from that. Maybe I just don’t understand. The only thing I can figure out is that so much of Tramp is so emotional, so angry, so gut-wrenching and I should feel those emotions when I listen, but I don’t. For me, the lyrics don’t stir images or moods and the although the performances are good, I’m only semi-interested. Who knows, perhaps I’ll listen back in a few months and be moved beyond words, but until that happens, Tramp sits firmly on my 2012 “meh” list. *sigh*
On first listen, a knowledgeable fan (such as myself) might be tempted to label this as SVE‘s collaboration with The National. Yes, the handiwork of producer Aaron Dessner is notoriously noticeable and the insistent, militaristic percussion of that perenially gloomy rock band appears—to great effect, I might add—in several songs, but you’re short-sighted to leave the observation at that and move on. I say this because I almost did that. Frankly, after the first two or three listens, I still thought this album was a little too long and not “diverse” enough. I got stuck around track 6 or 7 a few times, as my iTunes playlist confirms. A lot of my love for SVE‘s previous LP, Epic, was the broadness of the sound—the explorations into country twang and pedal steel on “Save Yourself”, the punky directness of “A Crime”, the languid but biting atmospherics of “Dsharpg”—and Tramp feels a little more “cohesive” at first. Her guitar is plugged in mostly, the lyrics are as unabashedly introspective and emotional as ever, and the biggest departures from her standard style seemingly come when she has a guest singer. (Wye Oak‘s Jenn Wasner, Beirut‘s Zach Condon, and Julianna Barwick all make appearances.) But, let me clarify my building point and preview the next paragraph in case you didn’t see this coming: Holy fuck, was I wrong. This album is incredible.
Here’s what brought me in closer: those darn lyrics. A few days ago, I listened to this album intently, focusing on the words. I planned on jotting down interesting phrases and lines to quote. I ended up practically transcribing the album as epic poetry. It shames me a little that it took a deliberate listen like this to get me hooked, but I’m absolutely glad I did it. The first handful of spins kinda washed over my ears without sticking, but now that I’ve immersed myself in this album’s atmosphere, I can’t escape. What’s more, I’m pretty sure that future listens will continue to reveal little nuggets of wisdom and aural satisfaction.
I’m convinced there’s a story hidden here in the lyrics to be discovered, discussed, digested, and learned from, ultimately. Too many songs seem addressed to specific people to ignore that element of personal connection. Never mind the direct references in “Kevin’s” and “Leonard”, even with lyrics like “You dig your grave, buried in masculine pain all the time” and “He’s smart / He leaves me wanting more / Knowing that I gave less and knowing why”, to boot—there’s the yearning in “Warsaw” (“I want to be over you / I want to show you I love you silently”), the uneasy finger-pointing in “Give Out” (“You’re the reason why I’ll move to the city or I’ll need to leave”), the (sadly, temporary) calm and complacency of “We Are Fine” (“It’s okay to feel / Everything is real / Nothing left to steal / ‘Cause we’re alright”), and so on. Like I said, I wrote down a lot of lyrics.
For every outwardly-turned phrase, though, there’s an inward gaze, too, a moment of SVE talking to herself, talking to us to remind her of something. “We all make mistakes / We all try to free the signs of the past we don’t want to last” she repeats, building in insistency, on “All I Can”. I can feel and hear her trying to find herself, defining herself with her songs, confronting a world with which she can’t quite confidently interact and saying that she knows no other way. “Tell me how not to stop all these tears and fears / So nothing else will drop / So all this pain will stop”. Wow. She needed this album to understand something deeply personal. We all need this album so that we might understand something about ourselves and our relationships through it.
A record like this is a very underrated and rare experience: a fully realized, highly complex, highly conflicted, comprehensive exposition of tangled feelings in and around a break-up. “Warsaw” is the perfect introduction to the gnarly strangleholds that Van Etten has on this music—it’s harsh, melodic, loud and dark, but really quite bluesy and self-assured. She sings, “I want to be over you, I want to show you.” That right there is really fresh to me because it’s coming from a place that is very present in some serious business. All you have to do is look at the cover image to see she is not pleased. With herself. With whomever. With whatever. Her voice is really rich and interesting to me; it’s quite deep but approaches this trill that reminds me of Emmylou Harris in its spirit. Those moments are where the fragility in the lyric is let loose, and at its best, it makes everything so damn real, pushing the emotion up and out of her body. “Give Out” is my favorite for its subtle and self-conscious images and actions played out so elegantly, just a heartbreaking song. I also appreciate Aaron Dessner’s vivid and varied production that doesn’t push the songs too much this way or that, giving songs like “Kevin’s” the silence that it needs and others like “Serpents” the pandemonium that draws out the mental instability suggested in the song. There’s a lot of really great use of slide guitar that transports everything into this dark western vibe that supports Van Etten’s lyrical character really brilliantly.
In my mind, a lot of these stand toe-to-toe with the arrangements on the recent National records. But perhaps the most bluesy and awesome moment in this record is the refrain in “Magic Chords,” that evolves from “You got to lose” into “You got nothing to lose.” I just fucking love that. Sharon gets it. 4 out of 5 cold, cold grounds.
There ya go. A plethora of opinions. A multitude of musings. Whatever you want to call it, we’re putting it out there. Tell us your thoughts! Did we hit the nail on the head? Completely miss the point? Let’s hash it out. Check out some links here to go buy the album, too!
Buy Tramp: Jagjaguwar / Insound / iTunes / Amazon
Filed under: Album Reviews, Roundtable
in conversation to the “meh” factor (to be a little serious), I think a record such as this that is so deeply conflicted and real is hard to let into your life if you the listener are not in that same place, if you take record-listening seriously (as you would and should). I’m not the kind of person to listen to sad records all the time but there’s something to be said about how something like this could turn you away. for the sake of argument, I actually felt the same way about Bon Iver at first back in college, then bad thoughts caught up with me and then it just resonated.
I’ve been obsessed with Sharon Van Etten since I saw her on a side stage at the Philly Folk Fest shortly after her first album’s release. I really, really love her first and second album. And I actually bought a CD copy of this new one, because my iPod only works out of one ear, and I HAD to have it.
I think it’s pretty great. It grows on me. Having been so used to (ummmm… obsessed with) the song “Give Out” from the Daytrotter session, at first I was having trouble being happy with the new version, but I’m over that now.
To Vicki — do you have her first album? You REALLY should get it if you don’t. “Have You Seen” is right up your alley, I think. You will love it.
I know SVE & Lana Del Ray are both female, but I don’t really think it makes any sense to draw comparisons between the two. Just saying. And also, if Edith Frost is “suave,” then I’m a rocket scientist. But it’s ok, I guess I knew what you meant.
@Melissa: Yeah, LDR and SVE have about as much in common as three-letter acronyms, AFAIK.
Oh dudes, I do apologize. I was strictly making a superficial connection to the fact that both SVE and LDR are thrice-named. Other than that, they have positively nothing in common. Didn’t mean to be so reductive there.
@Melissa: I’m only familiar with about half of her first album, and I don’t think that includes the track you mentioned. I’ll have to seek it out. And I also happen to prefer the version of “Give Out” from the Daytrotter session.
Yeah, Vicki, for some reason “Have You Seen” is not available on the internet to download for free, but it is really worth paying for. I paid for the whole album because when it first came out, none of the songs were available free.
[...] Carnegie Lecture Hall in Oakland. Check out our positive thoughts about her new record, Tramp, in this roundtable review post, and a fun and informative interview we did with her last year, too. What’s more, Jenn Wasner [...]