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"The Sadness I Admire" from Even Sleepers
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Even Sleepers
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CD Review

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Indieworkshop.com, CD Review >>

Leah Callahan
www.leahcallahan.com/
Baraca Records
The doe-eyed torch song balladeer inside of me loves this album. The lonely woman inside of me who sits at the end of the bar with a cigarette and half a drink loves this album because it makes her sad. The reformed Goth-girl turned introspective song-writer inside of me relates to these songs. The strapping behemoth of man that I am, with three days stubble, likes this album as well, for it’s low-key, sultry vocals. Am I indicating to you folks that I am at least three women trapped inside of one unbearably sexy male body? Yes, but I’m lying. And I would like to stop this vicious rumor right now before it makes its way to the Hotmail quick links along with 38 wacky facts about the Super Bowl and Sensual Valentines Day gifts for her. I am, as far as I can tell, not a woman trapped inside the body of a man. Although, if you stick me under the hood of a car the case may suddenly be up for debate.

Leah Callahan has a rather nice voice. This collection of nine original songs occupies the space of ethereal, smoky evenings. It is music for last call, the sound of crawling into bed alone, cold and drunk, or maybe waking up in a strange bed. Stiff drinks and cigarettes. This is starting to feel like Playboy After Dark or something. It’s nothing quite that gimmicky though. Nine simple, almost understated songs that nearly rival any of today’s chart topping female singers. Keep it coming though ladies, every Norah Jones or Alicia Keyes is one less Mary J. Blige or Pink and I cannot emphasize how important that is. Although Callahan may not quite be ready for the top of the charts she’s on her way. Unfortunately, the lyrics do leave a bit to be desired. Nothing very profound and its better if you just block them out at times. But, even though this album comes off a bit light, it is surely a step in the right direction. I would not be surprised if her next album were superb. Surely pick up this disc if you enjoy hearing delicate vocals in a competent setting. The songs drift and float through faint Brasilia, jazz, folk and the feel of a weary standard. So please, please, if your standing in the record store trying decide between say, Tori Amos or a ham sandwich, try and get your shit together, put down “Boys for Pele” and walk over to the Leah Callahan section. It’ll be the least dumb thing you do all day.

PS. I’m really not a woman trapped in a man’s body. Really. I swear.
 01/30/04 >> go there
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