Album Review: Rosalie Cunningham - Rosalie Cunningham

Among the long list of bands that have started strong only to quickly fade away is Purson. They were a prog/psych outfit that put out a debut record that was oozing potential. Unfortunately, their second album didn't step forward, and then they disbanded. It was a case of what could have been, as have been so many others. That story doesn't end there, though, as the leader of that band is now ready to return as a solo artist. Rosalie Cunningham was Purson, for all intents and purposes, so a solo album is only natural. Now, there's nothing to distract her from putting out her music as she sees fit.

Her vision of music is still focused on the acid-tinged days of the 60s. All you need to prove that is the first track, "Ride On My Bike", which is ripe with fuzzy guitars and organs that sound like they're being played in vivid technicolor. Basically, if you've ever stared at an old concert poster of the time, Rosalie's music sounds exactly like what those pops of color would put in your mind.

"Fuck Love" gives me an opportunity to talk about smart songwriting versus amateurish posturing. All That Remains had a song of the same name last year, and the two couldn't be more night-and-day. They're track was alpha-male bullshit where the lyrics were screamed inaudibly, leaving us with nothing but the title to contemplate, which sounded like a childish tantrum, and almost ruined what I thought was a very good album. Rosalie takes the same idea, but uses it to tell a story of generations of women rebelling against love so they could embrace their own power. There's a feminist bent when the first line starts, "Fuck love said my mother and her mother before." It's smart writing, and it makes the song vital.

Then there's "House Of The Glass Red", which has a few "Abbey Road" qualities to it. Rosalie's voice is ethereal yet assertive as the music gives her a soft backdrop to sing over, including little stabs of guitars that have the same bite George Harrison did on those classic records. But it's no carbon-copy, as Rosalie twists the vintage sounds into something that is familiar yet entirely her own. That bit of reinvention isn't easy to pull off, so credit where it's due.

Rosalie taes advantage of her solo status by building several of these songs on more open, airy soundscapes that put the focus on both her voice and the atmosphere of her surroundings. It's a different approach than Purson had, and it's something that I fell suits a solo artist. There's no mistaking who is running the show, or who is the center of attention here. Everything about this album is designed to support Rosalie and her songs, which is the right approach. There isn't anything flashy here, but that's the point. We're supposed to focus on Rosalie as a songwriter.

And since I brought up "Abbey Road" before, Rosalie finishes her record in a similar way, with "A Yarn From A Wheel" spending thirteen minutes transitioning from vignette to vignette, tying them together as a more epic statement than any of them could have been on their own. I don't know if it works as a single entity, but it certainly gives us a lot to chew on.

Ultimately, Rosalie Cunningham has done what I would expect from someone striking out on their own. She is using her album to explore a variety of sounds, and play around with music in a way her old band might not have allowed her to. That gives us an album that is playful, and sometimes challenging, but always one that reminds us she is a talent still forging her identity.