CD of the week:
CD OF THE WEEK: Jamie Cullum: Twentysomething
Michael Buble has already done remarkably well in bringing the style of the crooners of olden days to a new generation. Now the young Jamie Cullum sets down the same path on Twentysomething (Universal), keeping to the jazzy, easy-listening style that has been given a shot in the arm with the popularity of the likes of Norah Jones, Buble and Diana Krall.
The album — recorded and mixed entirely in analogue format — comprises a smattering of covers in between originals (some written with the help of his brother, Ben). Cullum puts a lovely spin on old chestnuts such as Singin’ in the Rain, Old Devil Moon and even I Could Have Danced All Night, which has never sounded sexier.
His charming, gravelly voice has a definite shadow of Sinatra, but he should be careful of simply doing an Old Blue Eyes impersonation, like on Cole Porter’s I Get a Kick Out of You, which is saved by some fancy instrumental tricks by the sparkling players on the album — Geoff Gascoyne stands out on bass, and Cullum himself does a good turn on the piano on most of the tracks.
His originals vary from a playful look at modern times (‘Maybe go to the gym, so I don’t get fat,” he sings on the title track, bouncing along to an infectious beat) to the lazy, mellow notes of All at Sea and These Are the Days (the latter written by Ben). Cullum’s a smooth operator in the tradition of the Rat Pack, that’s for sure, despite looking no older than 17. Just think how good he’ll be when he’s thirtysomething.
Gary Jules: Trading Snakeoil for Wolftickets (David Gresham)
He has shot to fame with his slow, masterfully mellow cover of Mad World on the Donnie Darko soundtrack. The rest of his work — all original — marks him as a clever lyricist and, it seems, a manic depressive. There is very little excitement among these 12 folky tracks, which amble along at a turtle pace, monotonous to the extreme and disappointingly devoid of life. — Riaan Wolmarans
REM: In Time: The Best of REM 1988-2003 (Warner Bros)
This is phase II of REM: the paradigmatic indie band now signed to a big label. The songs collected here are the hits of that period, plus a couple of new songs, including the single Bad Day, which has the effect of summing up the kind of song that made them so huge, and one feels as though one can now see through their technique. The mystery of the old REM is gone, as is the hard edge of songs such as It’s the End of the World as We Know it (And I Feel Fine). The Losing My Religion side of REM has won out. Also, they have now spawned a style that can be taken up and re-poppified by the likes of Avril Lavigne (yes — listen carefully), so what they did doesn’t seem very new any more. Perhaps it’s that, for me, REM are an albums band rather than a singles band: in their contexts, as part of a larger whole, these songs feel more rounded, have more dimensions. Everybody Hurts is less mawkish on Automatic for the People, and E-Bow the Letter certainly feels like a chapter of a novel rather than a standalone short story. But for those who love REM specifically because of these songs, the ones that broke through the college-rock ceiling, it’s all here. And check out the parallel DVD compilation of their videos: some, like Imitation of Life, are more interesting than the song they illustrate, and others ( the full Nightswimming mini-trilogy) for one, seduce utterly. — Shaun de Waal