The thing is not that the song's called "Ooh Ooh Johnny," it's that
Azita — A/Z, A Z, Azita Youssefi, etc. — is telling Johnny
McEntire to "bring me my Stevie Nicks," which just makes me
think of coke being blown up assholes, which perhaps isn't the place
to start this. Even though Stevie Nicks is not a bad place to start
the musical referencing for Azita's second solo record, which is her
first as, like, an actual, like, songwriter, one that sounds like
she's frocked-up and coked-out in authentically Nicks-ish fashion.
McEntire's both the hot guy and the hot studio guy in this equation,
bringing the warm-and-nurturing black cups of coffee and utterly
authentic analog tone to an album that's trying on '70s
singer/songwriter threads in most earnest atavistic fashion.
Youssefi's Music for Scattered Brains may've made boingy theme
music out of the spookiest tape-collaging, but Enantiodromia
makes show-themes out of the songsmith/piano setup. Youssefi belts
them out behind the ivories as McEntire and fellow Tortoise-type cats
play rhythm section and drape guitar solos in the right places.
Needless to say, it's a long way from the wailing no-wave screech
that Azita's best known for. Her time fronting fantastic
neo-no-waveist maidens The Scissor Girls and dynamic duking-out dukes
Bride of No No grants her some of the most recognized/respected
post-punk credentials for those not around for the No New York album
(and don't get me started on its brand-new sequel). Given that this
non-no-wave disc is issued by Drag City, comparison could come from
large-haired hipster songsmith Plush, whose dippy hippy piano-bar
odes slyly subvert notions of the singer/songwriter. But, as
singer/songwriter, Azita hardly matches her show-tune brief, feeling
much more comfortable working with minor keys, maudlin chords, and a
gruff, throaty singing style. In such, hearing this former no-wave
purist and her helping post-rockist hands try and craft the kind of
record they do makes me think of square-peg/round-hole type
metaphors. Which could explain why I can't stop spinning it; each
fraught, unsuccessful attempt at making over Youssefi in some
Chelsea Girl/Court & Spark style sounds so incongruous
it makes for both artistic friction and addictive listening.
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