Today’s track is from Aimee Mann’s first solo album, 1993’s Whatever. 1993? Has it really been 20 years since Aimee Mann embarked on her solo career?
If there’s one thing this blog does on a regular basis, it’s remind me of how freaking old I’m getting.
I love how this album really sounds like a bridge between Mann’s work with ‘Til Tuesday and the much more polished sound of her later records.
#3 – @#%&*! Smilers – Aimee Mann
Aimee Mann’s @#%&*! Smilers topped my 2008 list, and sits in the top three of this one, having not lost a bit of its staying power. Another record did leap frog it, but you’ll have to wait until tomorrow to hear about that one.
Sometimes an artist releases an album that pulls it all together in a way that none of their previous records could manage. @#%&*! Smilers was that album or Aimee Mann.
Top Songs of 2012 – #7
Anyone familiar with Aimee Mann’s discography would be unlikely to cite her sense of humor as a standout attribute. She writes melancholy songs about people at the end of their ropes. That’s what she’s always done and probably what she’ll always do.
Sometimes she wraps that sadness in a pretty pop sheen, as she did on her most recent release, Charmer. This album is poppier than anything Mann has released in years, and it’s a refreshing change of pace. The album features slick production, bright instrumentation and catchy melodies, all in the service of the same Aimee Mann worldview.
A month ago, I focused on Aimee Mann as part of my genome project, declaring her the most melancholy of all the melancholy artists I love.
A couple of weeks later, she surprised me by releasing her poppiest, most upbeat album since her Til Tuesday days, or at least since 1995’s alt-pop I’m With Stupid.
Charmer is heavy on synths and heavier on hooks, a real triumph of pop songwriting and a great next step for Mann, who might have been accused of treading water had she released another album in the vein of her last few.
I can’t think of a better choice as my first example of a ‘Melancholy’ artist than Aimee Mann. She’s probably the first three results on a Google search of the word melancholy (that’s the 21st century version of the old picture-in-the-dictionary cliché).
Yes, she’s the saddest, loneliest woman to ever strap on a guitar, and I love every damn minute of it. Nobody captures existential malaise or Gen X ennui as well as she does and, all the better, she does it with a mordant sense of humor and an acute melodic ear.
Meet Me In Montauk 