Posts Tagged ‘Amie Miriello’

Listening Booth: Amie Miriello, “I Came Around”

Amie Miriello, I Came Around (BellaSonic/Jive/Zomba)
purchase this album (Amazon)

The current boomlet of female singer-songwriters hasn’t yet spawned a Lilith Fair revival, but you can just feel one coming when a label like Jive throws its weight behind a folk-pop ingénue like Amie Miriello.

Actually, Jive has been behind her for awhile; she and her songwriting/performing partner, guitarist Jay Dmuchowski, threw together the band Dirtie Blonde after signing with the label in 2005, and scored a minor hit with the poppy but personality-free “Walk Over Me.” Since then Miriello has jettisoned the band and allowed Jive to use her as a guinea pig in the launch of its BellaSonic subsidiary, which seems intent on marketing her in a Colbie Caillat/Sara Bareilles mode.

And why not? Miriello exhibits plenty of promise on her solo debut, I Came Around, even if the album’s charms are a bit scattershot. The songwriting is relentlessly catchy (Miriello has at least a hand in every tune, assisted by Dmuchowski and numerous others), and its folk and blues influences occasionally manage to bubble up out of the major-label production gloss. The acoustic musicianship is impressive, too – and apparently is very impressive during her live gigs, which feature more of a laid-back, low-fi vibe than she displays here.

The only trouble is, I’m pretty sure Miriello is schizophrenic – or at least her voice is. (Come on, folks – I had to say something to avoid the standard clichés, like “she wears her influences on her sleeve” or “she hasn’t found her voice yet.”) Miriello has a strong, bluesy voice in there somewhere, but on songs like “Pictures” and “Brand New” she meanders from one affectation into another in what finally sounds like a desperate attempt to connect by reminding listeners of someone else. A little Alanis here, a little Tori there, a touch of Joni on “Who You Really Are” and the lovely piano ballad “Snow” – it doesn’t end there, but you get the idea.

That’s the bad news. The good news is, Miriello doesn’t need to do all that, because her songs sell themselves without all the distracting vocal acrobatics. The title track (and first single), for example, matches a regret-tinged lyric with propulsive guitars, sounding like an early track from the wonderful Sarah Harmer. (more…)