Joan As Policewoman - Damned Devotion
Angelic, ethereal and haunting, Joan Wasser’s sound is a stripped-back trippy martini of soul, R&B and techno with an alt-rock olive dropped in there on a cocktail stick.
Somewhere between a more in-tune PJ Harvey and a darker and more disturbing Nina Simone, Wasser threads from melancholy to uplifting, making this the perfect album for those who enjoy emotional whiplash.
With the precision that only someone who has lived and breathed music for the past three decades can lay claim to, Wasser’s album toys with you, jumping from feel-good dance groove to melancholy soul-searching tear-jerkers and then back again. This is an album that has pace and tempo, oscillating in texture and style with the grandeur of a world-class symphony.
Damned Devotion is annoyingly modest about its greatness, making all the tonal transitions seem rather flush and slick with some deft musical slight of hand. Her rockier tracks like ‘The Silence’ and ‘Rely On’ wedge a decent portion of funk in there, throwing a good old bit of brooding, clunky backing piano in, then spinning you around with a proper stamp-your-feet chorus to round things off. On the other hand, songs like ‘Valid Jagger’ and ‘Wonderful’ are liquid melancholy in their purest form and make artists like The Smiths and The Organ seem like rays of sunshine by comparison.
Originally known for playing violin in Black Beetle, a band formed from Jeff Buckley(who was her boyfriend at the time of his death)’s former band members, Joan Wasser has long since cut her own path as a solo artist, but this album truly places her on the gilded podium reserved only for the greats. Each of Wasser’s albums has a different flavour and Damned Devotion is no exception, marking a gear shift from her 2013 album The Classic, which was heavier on the rock and vocals, towards something darker and moodier.
My only caution with this album is that it occasionally strays too far into the ambient and, whilst music that puts you to sleep has obvious benefits if you’re an insomniac and elevator music must come from somewhere, it’s clear that this album wasn’t trying to achieve either of those effects, so it’s a shame that that’s how it comes across in sections.
Damned Devotion is a brilliant union of build-up and release, peaking and dropping. And maybe that’s why its tracks are so darned sexy; it picks up its rhythm then eases off for a while, only to gain momentum again, alternately tenderly and ferociously making love to your ears. It’s a deceptively simple album that cocoons and caresses you, allowing you to totally lose yourself within it like a wonderful hypnotic bubble.
8/10
