Joan As Policewoman – The Classic

“I don’t want to be nostalgic.” Funny that Joan Wasser drawls this at the chorus of The Classic’s centerpiece track, “Good Together” – of course, there she is talking about an old relationship, because she couldn’t possibly be talking about the lion’s share of her latest offering under her Joan As Policeman moniker.

Right down to its nondescript, backward looking title, The Classic spends an awful lot of its time carousing about the throwback flavor of the week, ‘70s soul. Granted, this foray is no surprise; Wasser retreated from her torch singer roots and began employing heavy doses of retro grooves in her last outing, 2011’s The Deep Field, but they were weighted and tempered with smears of melancholy. Joan’s soul diva turn is perhaps happening at an unfortunately inopportune time, coming on the heels of this genre exercise having been plastered all over mainstream pop radio in the past year. But that’s just making excuses, the real problem with The Classic is it just can’t often enough avoid the pitfalls of mediocrity, whether pastiche grooves, lackluster songwriting, or Joan’s own vocal limitations.

The first two tracks are southern soul-by-numbers, as Joan bangs on about a criminal on her inside on “The Witness” (Fiona Apple, anyone?) or the blasé chorus of the raucous “Holy City,” where she belts out that she’s “ready to get up on your Wailing Wall.” “Shame” is perhaps the worst offender as, over a hackneyed funk/soul backing, she divulges her disinterest in being a Christ-like figure, instead insisting she’s here to just “sing and get up in your everything!” Sheesh. The title track, however, is a curious little thing – an a cappella doo wop number that still falls prey to lyrical banality, but that can be overlooked for its sheer snappiness.

Wasser’s fine vocal grit and reedy tone can carry the soul aping only so far; her vocals are much better served on the album’s slower tunes, where she dials back the brassiness. “Good Together” rides along on its jackhammer guitar rhythm, while Wasser vamps to an old flame, “meet me at the back of the bath house,” before the song thrillingly devolves into a maelstrom of swirling synths and churning guitar and bass. It’s a bizarre beast, actually, on a number of levels, but it works. Sadly, it’s the one extended number that even comes close to justifying its runtime. Slow jam, “Get Direct,” would be a wonderfully mellow change of pace were it half the length and Wasser sets up “New Years Day” perfectly to end on a towering crescendo of a climax, ruefully informing a would-be lover that she “will not be here/this New Years Day,” to only then have the song tramp along another three minutes.

In a phrase, The Classic is "perfectly fine." I guess the best parallel I have for the album is the type of programming I seek out on the television while lying in bed at night – something that’s entertaining enough while I am paying attention, but something that I don’t mind if I nod off to as well.