Three years ago, Eddy Moran debuted as A Girl Called Eddy (paying tribute to
her hero Dusty Springfield's 1964 album A Girl Called Dusty), such a cutesy
moniker adorning the debutante (costume) ball where Moran found love and love-lost.
Crying Tears All Over Town, she charted a masterpiece in five songs,
its romantic, melancholic piano ballads introducing a beautiful vocalist and
brilliant songsmith in one. The EP cemented her place in the sophisticated-pop
type underground as a girl to watch, a girl (called Eddy) to rival girls called
Kendall
or Cracknell.
It's taken her forever to author the follow-up, finally fronting with her
first full-length, which forsakes some of the quiet intimacy she so graciously
grew for her debut, this disc not being afraid to indulge in intermittent bouts
of orchestral spectacle. Produced by former Pulp guitarist Richard Hawley — whose
own Roy Orbison-inspired solo albums share a similarity in aesthetic spirit with
Moran's music — this self-titled set is a loving celebration of old-fashioned
songcraft, all beautiful orchestration, carefully placed microphones, mood-specific
key changes, good taste and ostentatiousness. The opening bars of the brilliant "Heartache" — first
heard on the EP, now reprised, in even sadder shades, here — even pay particular
heed to Bacharach & David, evoking the familiar chords of The Carpenters' "(They
Long to Be) Close to You" in its most melancholy opening. Of course, pastiche
is easy to do, but Moran isn't just some slavish student of torch song. At the
core of her songs are profoundly personal emotions, and drop-dead orchestral
ballads like "Did You See the Moon Tonight" manage to marry raw feeling and refined
arrangement with aesthetic ease. Whilst a cautiousness and a preciousness
are
here that weren't on that fateful first dance, that's but a small mark
against a grand disc. |
