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| Contactmusic |
Rumer's effortless, mature, Karen Carpenter-like vocal is evidenced right from the albums' opening track, 'Am I Forgiven', where her beautiful singing sounds clear over a well-produced easy listening pop band backing. Perfectly complimented by smooth strings, occasional bell-like flourishes from glockenspiel and vibraphone and a gentle flugelhorn solo, 'Am I Forgiven' immediately announces Seasons Of My Soul as a divine offering. With laid back 6/8 feel, brushed drums and a smooth bed of piano and Rhodes accompaniment, 'Come To Me High' evidences the mellow seductiveness of Sade with Rumer's alluring and graceful vocals swooping over layers of self-provided backing vocals and subtle, sensitive solo viola. Former single 'Slow' starts with Rumer's beautiful vocals over a sparse and sensitive accompaniment of piano, bass and harp before the drums kick in and the track lilts forward in a mellow, easy-on-the-ears blend. The same wistful and questioning, romantic lyrics are evidenced, like much of Seasons Of My Soul, in the string drenched 'Take Me As I Am'. Rumer's October-released single, 'Aretha', is a soulful bluesy number taking inspiration from Aretha Franklin; its' sensitive and heartfelt instrumentation bracketing a brief, more driven shuffle blues interception, is again perfectly complimentary to Rumer's meaningful vocals. Then, from the dreamy piano and gentle double bass of the pleasant, uplifting number, 'Thankful', through the album's sparsely accompanied highlight, 'Healer', to its' wonderful Carpenters-esque conclusion, 'Goodbye Girl', complete with gentle harmonica suggestions and smooth string accompaniment; Seasons Of My Soul offers little in the way of variety, but instead a pure and effortless, inoffensive and consistently high standard blend. An outstanding debut....full text |
| Guardian |
| Around the 25th anniversary of the release of Sgt Pepper, a journalist asked David Mellor, then the national heritage secretary, for his favourite track on the Beatles' most famous album. Quick as a flash, he answered "Submarine", a quote from a halcyon era when you knew exactly where you were with politicians and pop music. How lovely it was when they existed in mutually exclusive worlds, when even if Margaret Thatcher was inveigled to review the singles on Saturday Superstore, you knew disaster would ensue. "I don't hear any Heartache," she snapped when confronted with the debut single by former Wham! vocalists Pepsi and Shirley, as if making a mental note to find out where Pepsi and Shirley came from and systematically destroy any remaining manufacturing industry there in order to teach them what heartache was all about. Buy it from Buy the CD Rumer Seasons Of My Soul Atlantic 2010 These days, of course, it's impossible to stop them sharing the contents of their iPod with you, infecting whatever's on it with their contagious uncool: most recently, we had the prime minister's wife testing the strength of the nation's stomach by announcing they enjoy "afternoon cuddles" to the xx. Under the circumstances, how will 31-year-old singer-songwriter Sarah Rumer Joyce cope, now the world knows she numbers not merely Burt Bacharach and Elton John but John Prescott among her fans? In fairness, Rumer seems to be bearing his attentions bravely: as she pointed out to one interviewer, Prescott's Guardian blog about her carefully and correctly analysed the lyrics of her languid, beautiful single Slow, which is more than you can say for the PM, apparently steadfast in the belief that the Jam's The Eton Rifles was a hearty thumbs up for the public school system. Perhaps she views it merely as the latest improbable twist in a fairly improbable career: a female singer-songwriter who somehow failed to get signed for more than 10 years, a decade during which record labels would sign pretty much anyone in possession of bosoms and an acoustic guitar; whose debut album is brought to you not under the auspices of a hip producer, but Steve Brown, the guy who played Alan Partridge's bandleader Glenn Ponder in Knowing Me, Knowing You. The most improbable thing about Rumer's debut album may be that it's a record that sets the controls for the heart of the Radio 2 playlist – pitched somewhere between Carole King's Tapestry and the sumptuous melancholy of the Carpenters, it would have been described as middle of the road 40 years ago – yet has attracted the kind of critical interest such records never normally get....full text |
| Bbc |
| Contrary to what televised talent shows might tediously suggest, there really isn’t a great voice waiting to be found on every high street. Sure, the throw-everything-at-a-wall approach works occasionally – nobody can deny that Leona Lewis is a brilliant singer, albeit one without an album worthy of her talent – but the scrapheap of public-voted flops continues to grow. Indeed, it’s now in danger of blocking out any future stars due their time to shine. Rumer – born in Pakistan but introduced to folk (and, presumably, soul) music when her family moved to Hampshire – is a great voice who’s done things the old-fashioned way. Shunning the bright lights of prime-time exposure (believe me, she could win any such show), she developed her songs over a lengthy period of time, working menial jobs to make ends meet. Now, deservedly, her breakthrough has come. More improbably, her producer here is Steve Brown, who appeared on the Alan Partridge-helmed Knowing Me Knowing You series. Brown’s an award-winning composer, though, and his touch guides several of these songs to a finished state where graceful melodies barely mask emotions far weightier than those typically associated with pop newcomers. Comparisons to Karen Carpenter and Laura Nyro have been made in the past, and rightly so – Rumer’s voice, bruised but unbowed, soft but sturdy, is hugely evocative of those vocalists. But there are plenty of contemporary parallels to be drawn, too. Healer’s skeletal arrangement, topped by cautious lyrics of uncertain love, is reminiscent of New York singer-songwriter Nina Nastasia. It gets a little over-egged, its endearing slightness sidelined by expansion, but nevertheless it’s a great number. The ghostly backing vocals on Blackbird and On My Way Home lend the impression of a group rather than an individual, stirring thoughts of soon-to-return Georgia dream-pop duo Azure Ray....full text |
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