For anyone fond of
Cibelle's 2003 self-titled debut, a pleasant album of Brazilian downtempo typical of Six Degrees (a trendy worldbeat label based in San Fransisco with a Lonely Planet-like following),
The Shine of Dried Electric Leaves is likely to generate a sense of surprise. It's a bold move in an indistinct direction, away from the broadly appealing samba-lite downbeat of her self-titled debut album and toward abstract soundscapes and poetics. It's a consciously artistic direction, for sure, and while her music is just as graceful as before, with her absolutely beautiful vocals in the forefront at all times, it's a more difficult approach to grasp, one that reveals itself steadily with each successive listen. After all,
Cibelle had been an immediately appealing album, comprised of feel-good music that was difficult to dislike, much like
Bebel Gilberto's beloved
Tanto Tempo. On the other hand,
The Shine of Dried Electric Leaves bares a resemblance to highly crafted, lulling, and ultimately enchanting -- if a bit odd -- recent critical favorites like
Björk's
Vespertine and
Devendra Banhart's
Cripple Crow (the latter artist is featured here on a duet performance of
Caetano Veloso's "London London"). Half the album is sung in fluent English, and the songs build and swell with each passing minute rather than play out in a straightforward verse-chorus-verse fashion. The music is fascinating if you can appreciate the conception of such an album, one that credits three different producers (
Apollo Nove,
Mike Lindsay,
Yann Arnaud) who each live in different countries and, for the most part, co-produce each track.
Cibelle's ambition will be lost on some listeners, undoubtedly, especially those looking for some agreeably laid-back Brazilian beats tailor-made for globetrotting. Yet the artistry so evident on
The Shine of Dried Electric Leaves should be a delightful surprise to those who enjoy their music heady as well as luscious, and with a literate, worldly edge. ~ Jason Birchmeier