Alice Auer emanates delicacy but forgets depth on Baby, Cry

Being that it chose to strike itself at the finish line on closer “I Feel Sad” with this unplaceable, yet immortal crime, it occurred with the strangest feeling that the jig was up and she had handcuffed herself. There was an oddity to the listening experience of this EP, where it seemed to encircle the central annoyance of why the emotional reaction incurred upon listening to this was void. The instrumentals showcase pristine indie-Jazz-isms fit for an exhale and a recline; they breathe well and give space to Alice, but this is paramount to leaving an open spot at the dinner table for the friend who you are assured will never arrive. Alice is at once warm in presence, yet thoroughly aloof in ways of emotional complexity.

It presents a question that is sorrowfully undertaken by each listener to answer: if every note is in its right place, but lacking substantial charisma, do they still make a sound? Whether or not one should trade out a deeper understanding for a breezy melody and a winking smile is entirely dependent on if one thinks that needs to be a trade, to pretend that they should be mutually exclusive. “Greek Street,” adjacent to Dodie and thoroughly content in being post-Twee, harmonises its way into a skyloft floral arrangement, feeling as if petals should be raining down on the titular street with its gentle acoustic strumming and breathy vocalisations; however, when trying to remember any lyrical intrigue about this track, the floral arrangement then suddenly feels propped up by string wire for an Instagram post.

“Unknown” reveals a certain amount of colour left in a groove so tried-and-true that it’s the blue-chip stock of jazz. Producer Conor Albert wrings every drop of character he can from the instrumental; the drums are compact and the keys bounce as if they’ve been spiked into the floor. With a serviceable hook and a guitar solo EQ’d always right below where it should be, it’s a summery atmosphere that gets by on good will alone.

“Baby, Cry” features the soothing brush of acoustic guitars and close harmonies that adorned “Greek Street” but with a slant more indebted to Lana Del Rey’s “Wild at Heart.” However, unlike the average Lana track, Alice fashions herself caring and involved on this title track, soothsaying a tormented lover in a lyrical showing that only capsised my faith when the final track began. It’s the problem with playing it safe: decent production choices and a half-decent tune does not build a song, and if you’re going to ask listeners to lean in and listen on one track, reward their good faith on the next. Otherwise, this oscillating through emotional involvement might just give me emotional motion sickness.