Three years back, back when she was Sally Russell, Melburnian songsmith Sally
Seltmann first brought New Buffalo to life on the amazing About Last
Night EP. Produced by her future husband, Darren Seltmann of the
Avalanches, it was a seamless montage of playful piano ballads and shimmering
orchestral samples; its fleeting five-song tenure teased at the potential
aesthetic riches that lay ahead. It's been a long time lying in wait
for the follow-up album, but with each New Buffalo show Seltmann staged
in the interim (including a jaw-dropping solo set in support of Ed Harcourt
in a tasteful jazz-club setting), the expectation that something great
was in the works only increased. The Last Beautiful Day finally
fulfills all the potential, and more. And it is so much more. After undertaking
recordings with Björk collaborateur Jake Davies, Seltmann decided
to bunker down and record and play everything herself in her home studio.
Largely composed of analog organs, scratchy samples, and layers of Seltmann's
thin-yet-tender voice, the record is a profound piece of personal expression,
a collection of lyrical pop songs that're a product of a single individual.
Her personality so governs the record that a guest vocal guest spot from
Beth Orton (on "Inside") seems like a minor incident, the famous folkie
but a murmur in the background as Seltmann stages another off-kilter,
homemade, shockingly intimate symphony. That song, like so many on the
record, is about togetherness and weathering out difficult periods of
one's life; the joyous "It'll Be Alright" features a lustily sung chorus
where Seltmann's sentimental sentiments are simple, and simply beautiful: "Your
eyes never seem to open, but there's a whole world outside/ See them
try to tell you/ It'll be alright." Such sentimental sentiment is topped,
though, on the album's standout song, a love song called "I've Got You
and You've Got Me," which is subtitled "Song of Contentment." Evoking
performance anxiety and the reassurance of loving support, Seltmann slays
me when she warbles, a little off key, at the beginning: "And when they
dim the lights/ Forgetting my stage fright/ I find that little smile/
Because I've got you and you've got me." It's easy to envy such a scenario,
to project your own romanticism upon a romantic image conjured in a romantic
song — such envy being, for me, heightened by how much I love the
song itself, and this record itself. The trick, now, will be to try and
find a human I can feel as affectionate towards as I do this blessed
compact disc.
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