Yahoo! Music Review

Released on 23/04/07
Label: Polydor

Aside from a couple of well-received solo outings, especially 2003's "Let It Die", Leslie Feist is perhaps best known for her association with Canada's goofball mafia of Peaches and Gonzales, as well as an extended stint in Broken Social Scene. It's an impressive list by anyone's standards (and who wouldn't want a collaboration with the artist formerly known as Merrill Nisker titled "Bitch Lap Lap" on their CV), but with her best album thus far, this indefinable artist has surely broken free and eclipsed her past.

Certainly, Feist is difficult to pigeonhole. There's much on "The Reminder" that could be labelled "jazz" or "acoustic singer songwriter", but, aided by a ghostly sparse production, nothing comes close to the anonymity of, say, a Corrinne Bailey Rae. Tiny sonic surprises lurk around every unsuspecting corner. Indeed, like her past collaborations, musically it's a veritable lucky bag in terms of range. In terms of quality, it's virtually all top notch.

Ignoring the Beth Orton-ish opening "So Sorry" - the album's low-point, bizarrely - "The Reminder" comes to life with a brace of perfect pop songs: "I Feel It All", a pleasantly-strummed piece of guitar froth that dives unexpectantly into hidden depths; and "My Moon My Man", whose genius video should probably ensure success of OK GO proportions. Echoing that promo, the driving piano-led rhythm almost demands lunatic dancing like an inane flapper at Trash.

From here, we divert into every tangent possible. "The Park" is heart-meltingly gorgeous, like Ryan Adams at his most broken, but produced by Jim O'Rourke. Similarly, on "The Water" you can literally hear her breath crackling against microphone static. "Past In Present" reprises the chorus from Broken Social Scene's mighty "7/4 (Shoreline)", "Brandy Alexander" reveals a distinctly Beatles-like chorus and "1234" is infused with the carefree spirit of Mama Cass's "Dream A Little Dream Of Me". If it's not already soundtracking a mobile phone commercial where a postman doffs his cap and an apple falls from the tree and straight into your hand, then it probably should be.

The only duff note is struck by an unnecessary cover of Nina Simone's "See Line Woman" (here titled "Sea Lion Woman"), which palls considerably in comparison to the legendary Master's Of Work reinterpretation from a few years back. But no matter. From 14 potential tracks, there are at least eight or nine good reasons to buy this album. "Rain, rain making me cry", coos Feist in the closing show-stopper, "How My Heart Behaves", and you believe her. An elemental tour-de-force, "The Reminder" could be her Eureka record - an album where almost everything turns to gold.

    by Adam Webb