Saying
Nicki Jaine really likes classic German cabaret is a bit like saying
Prince might really enjoy funk a lot -- it's both a raison d'etre and a launching point for further experiments. Playing piano and singing while often accompanied by a variety of other performers, including both rock and orchestral instrumentation,
Jaine on her debut album makes a pretty fine case for the continued flying of the
Brecht/
Weill/
Lenya flag for a new century. Starting the opening track "Sound of Girls" with an intentionally distanced, scratchy sound to call to mid-'30s-era recording (as well as ending the album in the same way) is a nice tip of the hat as well, but after that
Jaine and crew go for the full dynamic range, embracing space and high fidelity over simple recreation.
Jaine's voice has the smoky, strong, and when needed, sneering tone down, equal parts
Marlene Dietrich and
Marianne Faithful -- it's a voice of confidence, of assured strength and wry wit, and sometimes of downright disturbing work, as "Animals Crawling" ("...inside and outside and over your head") suggests. Her arrangements, meanwhile, whether minimal or monstrously rocked out ("Antarctica" alone shows she's hardly afraid of turning up the amps) have the stop-start-spotlight moments necessary for memorable turns in this genre. Without actually creating a musical or a concept album,
Jaine's work suggests sketches from a dramatic performance. Individual songs like "Should Have Known," a vocal/piano piece with
Jaine pitilessly yet amusingly dissecting a collapsed relationship, shows how she can deftly change melodies and tempos to keep the ear engaged. It's therefore no surprise that when the fuller arrangements kick in on "Amsterdam," with violins and cellos backing one of
Jaine's most passionate performances, or the burning snarl and psychosis of "Octopi" that same sense of drama remains intact. When the music on the latter song strips back to just
Jaine and barely audible piano, it's absolutely perfect.