Jen Gloeckner

Mouth of Mars

(self-released)

Record Review by Adam McKibbin

True out-of-nowhere surprises are limited in this day and age; even if you find a brand new artist that lights your fire, chances are you’ve heard about it from some blogger – or, if you’re a critic, you’ve had it recommended by a label or publicist you’ve come to trust.  There are exceptions, of course, especially when you keep an open door.  About six years ago or so, Jen Gloeckner was a major exception; her debut, Miles Away, was a beguiling display of unique vision – moody, mysterious, and sensual.  I talked to her at the time about the challenges of building a presence while based in Dubuque – there were a number of patronizing comments about how creativity exists even in small towns in the Midwest! – and then Gloeckner pretty much dropped off our radars, though I’d still revisit her debut as the years wore on.

She’s back (finally) with Mouth of Mars, an album that finds her even more comfortably exploring the fringes of her sound, again earning all of those stock adjectives used above to describe her debut – moody, mysterious, sensual – without ever stopping to repeat herself.  She’s a major talent and, at this point, her bandwagon still has plenty of room.  Hop aboard*.

*Unless you are so dumbstruck by a woman who’s creative and eclectic and writes lyrical metaphors that you can find no better way to describe her than “crazy chick” – in which case you have to find another wagon.  Perhaps one built in the ‘70s.

The album begins with its title track, an ominous assemblage of chimes, cello and keyboards with some unmistakable echoes of Choirgirl Hotel-era Tori Amos.  This is followed shortly thereafter by the terrific “Sleep to Dream,” with its typically vivid and impressionistic lyrics, and featuring backing vocals from Joseph Arthur and co-producer Brian McTear, who’s added another success to his impressive discography.  “Sleep to Dream” is Gloeckner at her best – utterly unique but also entirely accessible.

Continuity is about the only art-within-the-art that Gloeckner has yet to master on her first two albums, though hopefully she has many more attempts ahead.  Not that the albums would benefit from more sameness – they’re wonderfully varied – but she has yet to connect all the dots and sustain creative momentum from start to finish.  For one, she can go a little too far adrift in the abstract sometimes, with meandering arrangements or weird snippets and sound collages that distract more than enhance.  And then there’s an awkward elephant in the room:  when investigating my least favorite tracks on the album, I realized they were the tracks written by John Gloeckner, Jen’s husband.  There’s a superfluous spoken-word piece that seems inspired by Whale Rider, then three sore thumb electro-rockish tracks that make Gloeckner sound dated and derivative – when she’s otherwise again proven herself to be absolutely anything but.