Lenny Savage - Quaintrelle
By Matthew Buttell
On paper at least, Lenny Savage is the sort of musician I should fall head-over-heels in love with. The cover of her debut album – ‘Quaintrelle’ - depicts Savage as a sort-of Florence Welch meets Paloma Faith and everything about her exudes confidence, character and attitude. What's more, it’s a spunky kind-of attitude: not something akin to an unforgiving, Diva-style; more a kind of "hello, what's she all about then?" kind-of attitude.
Then there's the name of the album of itself: ‘Quaintrelle,’ a 12th Century word for a woman who lives a life expressed through personal style (essentially the female equivalent of a Dandy), seems to fit that Lenny Savage persona, too.
Of course, the problem with making such a bold statement - creating such a preconception for your listeners - is that you have to do one of two things: either live up to it, or shatter it completely. Savage, sadly, fails to do either.
While the opening track, ‘Crazy’, with its sweeping, melodic choruses and haunting lyrics, has the power to (at times) make the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, it’s not exactly mind-blowing stuff. And while you can certainly hear Savage's influences in her music - Fiona Apple, Ani DiFranco, Fairground Attraction, even - these 11 tracks failed to move this listener far beyond these already established artistes.
By Savage's own admission in the liner note, "most of these songs were inspired by intolerable men," something of a similar tack taken with many of Savage's other influences - Alanis Morissette, Tori Amos, Joni Mitchell - but, in the end, Quaintrelle pales in comparison to, say, Morissette's ‘Jagged Little Pill’: a real tour de force in the crucifixion of misogynistic ex-boyfriends.
Then again, perhaps that's unfair. After all, there are moments of genuine gorgeousness here: ‘Satellites’, ‘Dreamer’, ‘Green’ and ‘Soles of Your Shoes’ come at you like a battalion of gypsy-jazz soldiers, one after the other; and, throughout, Savage's voice carries with it a nuance that is both achingly vulnerable and yet assuredly confident, which can't help but hold your attention.
Ultimately though, it’s that girl-Dandy image that I couldn't shake, meaning the whole package just didn't gel for me: in short, the Lenny Savage persona felt all too stylised, as if it had been airbrushed to look like something it didn't really believe in. I watched a video of Savage doing ‘Satellite’s on YouTube where she looked far-less Paloma, far-more (one can assume) herself, and the song really came into its own. Maybe that's just the problem with listening to a CD and not having the privilege of seeing an artist in the flesh. I don’t doubt that Savage would be a captivating spectacle onstage.
Savage also seems to have the sort of voice that would lend itself to live performances far better than a recording (it’s that stunning, idiosyncratic nuance of hers again) and - if she'd have me - I'd love to put in an appearance at one of her future shows.
In the end, ‘Quaintrelle’ is in no way a bad CD - its actually quite charming and suggests Savage is insatiably talented - it just that it might fare better if it were packaged in a less, well, well-packaged form: something that allowed Savage to truly shine, and not appear like just another one of "those" girls.
