Lloyd Cole – Music In A Foreign Language

The title song to Lloyd Cole’s Music In A Foreign Language is so exquisitely written, so proficiently executed, that it makes even the most mannered singer-songwriter sound slovenly. Not just poetic, the lyrics are rendered like a poem — sung, not just written, in a kind of iambic pentameter.

Cole wears the theme of romantic regret like a perfect skin. He also wears it out. Music In A Foreign Language is relentless in its sorrow, in its drizzly emotional detachment. His vocals rarely rise above a whisper; on “Today I’m Not So Sure”, he sounds like the Donovan of the despondent.

Though few songs break through the forlorn mist, some connect better than others. “Cutting Out” is one of the good ones, communications technology facilitating both physical and emotional distance; its message is reach out and don’t touch.

Although other musicians take part, this has the feel of a purely solo album. Cole’s own musical touches — tasteful guitar strokes, crisp piano fills and moody programmed sounds — make this a paragon of what might be called new age folk-rock. But it’s 2004; do we really need another song about Los Angeles and cocaine (“Late Night, Early Town”)? There’s a coals to Newcastle cover of Nick Cave’s “People Ain’t No Good”. The only moderate mood elevator here is a druggy fantasy called “Brazil” co-written with Jill Sobule and Dave Derby, Cole’s former bandmate in the Negatives.

The final song, “Shelf Life”, has all the optimism of a suicide note: “I’m your unworthy friend/At the ungodly end of a lifetime.” The silver lining is that there’s not a song on this record that will ever be mauled by a band that plays weddings.