Sara Lov

Seasoned Eyes Were Beaming

(Nettwerk)

Record Review by Marcel Feldmar

I was first introduced to the sounds of Sara Lov when I heard her band the Devics back in 2001. I was instantly captured, letting it take me away, drifting like some more velvet touched and shadowed Black Heart Procession. While mostly carried by Sara’s vocals, the songs of the Devics are also pushed forwards, into and out of those shadows, by Dustin O’Halloran’s piano caresses. The rest of the band, of course, does nothing other than add levels and layers of beauty to what is there. Not a note out of place, not too much, sometimes perfectly lush, and never too little, though at times heartbreakingly tied to silence.

The first song on Seasoned Eyes Were Beaming sails through like some enchanted ship drifting, storm clouds on the horizon and a breaking heart just off the starboard side. It shifts, the feelings of these songs. You could be ocean bound, or you could be caught in some misty mountain fog, a deep forest path, or just lying in a field, trying to catch the stars as they come out and fall. They all fit and flow and slide together, but the one thing that, to me, ties them all together, is that they are all tied to either dawn or dusk. This is not night music; this is not for listening in the bright light of day. Perhaps through the rain, but mostly, these songs are for rising, early morning, or wishing and waiting, longing, just after the sun has set.

“Frankie” slides back on to dry land, and Sara Lov hits a soft lounge mood, but it’s not smoke-filled, not this one. This is just sad, cinematic, blue light and soft. There is timelessness to these songs, floating above the confines of a specific place. It is sadness and memories and loss and the hope for a better future. “A Thousand Bees” is almost heartbreaking, but with a touch of anger, still lying quietly under the guitars.

These songs, this singer… these musicians, these songs. It could be a red velvet whiskey touched back street lounge in New York, 1988. It could be a stage, draped with flowing curtains, in a downtown theatre, Los Angeles, 2009. These songs could be floating out of a club in Montmartre, Paris, somewhere around 1884, Berlin in 1932, or Chicago, 1944. These songs could be anywhere, but thankfully, they are right here.

There is a sad, slow, minimal melodic and beauty touched cover of Paul Simon’s “Old Friends”. There is the light and airy sadness of “Seasoned Eyes Were Beaming” that moves into a solid rhythm and beat, bringing to mind a little early Sarah McLachlan, but much more subtle. These songs are sprinkled with hints of pop, but underneath there is a river of bittersweet maturity that keeps the music from becoming too bright, too… casual. While there is sometimes a sparkle in the eye, a hint of a smile, a wink and an invitation to play, there is also, as in the last song on the CD, “Fountain”, always the knowledge that all good things come to an end.

The songs are done. There is a moment of silence, a feeling of something lost, but the memory of the music, the songs you just heard, comes back and fills you with a sense of everything’s going to be alright.