Title:Central Reservation By: Orton, Beth Released by: Arista Released on: 1999 Rating (out of 10): 6 Date: 07/01/2001
Neither Undiscovered Nor Genius, But Intriguing Nonetheless
The jewel case of English folkie chanteuse Beth Orton’s 1997 CD, Trailer Park, could be found lying open at the bedsides of ennui-stricken bohemian types, from consumptive-looking Trainspotting extras to beflanneled alt.country depressives to doe-eyed Scarsdale pre-teens seeking the next Natalie Merchant. Orton’s music is plaintive, slightly ambient; her voice a reedy Python-esque drag-cockney with an endearing timbre.
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Central Reservation, from 1999, is ambient too, but not so much in terms of beats as echoey space and unobtrusive production. The focus here is on ballads, sweet and slow, and every string of every strum can be heard. While the snail’s pace of the album has a conversational quality, it drags along at times, and it’s not exactly a short record. Because of this, many Trailer Park enthusiasts wrote her off as a one-album wonder and didn't give Central Reservation enough time to work its soft, seductive magic.
The strongest cut on Central Reservation is the title track. Its melody soars and dips, its lyrics an ode to passive positivity ("today is all that I want it to be"). It’s nice to walk around listening to this one on a sunny, cold day, hitting the repeat button the second before the next track number appears on the Discman’s digital readout. "Central Reservation" appears twice on its namesake album; the second version is a forgettable dance remix by Ben Watt, but it's likeable enough.
"Stolen Car" is Central Reservation's most uptempo song and will appeal to Trailer Park fans. It's a rush of sounds: electric violin, guitar, a steady beat, and Orton harmonizing with herself. But the song that instantly grabbed me was "Sweetest Decline," a country torch ballad driven by piano (courtesy of Dr. John) and strings. Here, Orton shows off some lovely mezzo-soprano notes, as the melody waltzes along like one of Jimmy Webb's. Her voice here is a full-bodied mixture of Nina Simone and Sandy Denny, or perhaps Cat Power, reminding us how the voice is often the purest expression of the self, the hole in the wall of the corporeal being that allows us to experience the singer's pain, joy, or restlessness.
Beth Orton’s got the unpinpointable "It," and "It" separates her from 95 percent of her used-bin neighbors. It’s the "It" that keeps us wading through the cheap stacks, hoping we’ll stumble upon undiscovered genius. At this point in her career, she’s neither undiscovered nor genius, but she’s a convincing "first listen" for me, which is rare—and subsequent plays of Central Reservation never wear out their welcome in my CD player. I look forward to watching her career develop, and I pity the poor trendies who have given up on her so quickly.
