Toronto-based Chicago-born singer-songwriter Meghan Uremovich (later Meghan Remy) debuted with a collection of
lo-fi, droning and sometimes dissonant sketches,
Introducing (SiltTees, 2008), with the haunting wordless ambience of
National Anthem reminiscent of
The 28-minute mini-album Go Grey (Siltbreeze, 2010) continued in that
distorted litany of Turnaround Time glides over a rhythm that becomes Indian along the way and then speeds up hysterically, while
the hypnotic singsong Red Ford Radio relies on shamanic drumming.
The album's weakest element is the dissonant instrumental interludes that still
feel immature (despite the cute ambience of Summer of the Yellow Dress).
On Kraak (2011) was a more accomplished affair, with a more polished
She still wastes time and energies on childish interludes like Sinkhole
(the dissonant kind) and Si I Mean Oui (the melodic kind), but some of
them are getting more interesting (like the spaced-out
The Day After 4th July and
the slow droning ambient Iran Then Iraqognized Her), but the songs
a demented take on the girl-groups of the 1960s like State House
to the witchy industrial pop Pamela + GG (the standout).
There are also two
relatively straightforward songs, one with the drum-machine (Island Song)
and the other one is country lullaby (Peotone) plus
a cover of Brandy and Monica's The Boy Is Mine.
No more miniatures on Gem (Fat Cat, 2012): no song is shorter than two minutes.
Another Color finally weds her surreal instrumental interludes and her passion for the tender melodies of 1960s girl-groups, but still keeps them separate, but
Work From Home truly fuses these two elements of her art in something
that feels like a postmodern pastiche of Phil Spector's productions and Tamla's catchy soul music.
On the other hand, the tedious litany Rosemary and the failed country-pop
elegy North on 45 drag down the album, although this missteps are
redeemed by the deliriously catchy boogie Slim Baby.
Alas, there is still a little bit of childish filler, not to mention two
useless covers (Brock Robinson's 1991 ballad Jack and
Joe South's 1965 Down in the Boondocks).
The commercial, dancefloor conversion of Half Free (4AD, 2015) basically started a new career.
Alas, the positively boring Sororal Feelings,
gloomy synth-pop of New Age Thriller,
the somnolent dirge Red Comes in Many Shades
and the hazy ballad Navy & Cream all but annihilated her
The notable exception is
the disco-reggae Damn That Valley.
She also coins a new genre
with Window Shades and Woman's Work:
vaporwave-influenced magniloquent Abba-esque disco-music.
She certainly has a unique knack for annoying interludes and strange detours
(the hard-rocking Sed Knife).
Now converted into a mysterious pop chanteuse, Uremovich
indulged in moronic Steely Dan pop-soul-jazz on
In a Poem Unlimited (2018), recorded with a funk-jazz combo:
Velvet 4 Sale, L-Over and Rosebud (crooned with a voice that increasingly sounds like Donna Summer).
Her post-Abba disco-music yields the feverish, polyrhythmic M.A.H. (an anti-war anthem sung in a voice reminiscent of Blondie),
while her eccentric alter-ego explores
1950s dancehalls in the cover of
Canadian singer-songwriter Simone "Fiver" Schmidt's Rage of Plastics.
She is at her witchy best on the pounding and dissonant funk shuffle Incidental Boogie (sung in a Patsy Cline kind of tone over a percussive mayhem worthy of the Fleetwood Mac's Tusk), and she finds an unlikely balance of
Talking Heads' funk hypnosis and
Santana's Caribbean-jazz party in
the eight-minute shuffle Time.
Half of the album is her best yet, half is her worst.
Her songs used to be too short, but on Heavy Light (2020) they are
too long, the
Whitney Huston-ian ode IOU being a prime example.
Past the energetic funky-gospel ballad 4 American Dollars
(architected by Washington-based dance producer Rich Morel)
tribal Talking Heads-ian Overtime
(originally on the 2013 EP Free Advice Column and rearranged by
Canadian folksinger and autoharp player Basia Bulat),
the album becomes a parade of
slow and mid-tempo elegies that at best achieve the minimalist hypnosis of
The Quiver to the Bomb (another Morel creation, replete with an operatic refrain and proggy synth lines).
The album includes a terrible version of her old State House
and a terrible version of her old Red Ford Radio, perhaps a sign that
she was running out of songs to complete the album.
She boasts a more original, less girlish, voice, often with the counterpoint of
gospel choirs, and the musicians are top-notch. What is missing is the inspiration: simple ideas are stretched out for four or five minutes without developing.
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