PJ Harvey
Uh Huh Her
On Sale Now
For $11.28

PJ Harvey is a complex composer. She’s chock-full of sonic ambition and never makes the same record twice, which deserves a degree of recognition. Harvey dives into a vast palette of emotional breakdowns. She has captured the dark side of dilapidating desire on To Bring You My Love, contrasted with the rewards and life experience that come with accepting the precincts of succumbing to a steady relationship with Stories from the City, Stories from the Sea (still her best record). Her dichotomy is stronger than ever on Uh Huh Her, which suggests that everything that once glittered is now black again. One minute she’s a tiger, the next she’s a lamb, and PJ wouldn’t have it any other way. As the rather diminutive running time plays out, it shrieks more like a thunderous middle finger to a treacherous man that has done her wrong.

It’s clear from the opening track that she’s more interested in capturing the raw essence of rock instead of polishing or glossing up with studio trickery or punch-gut production work. This time out however, instead of walking the streets of New York with a lover, she compares words of trust to poison and launches into marriage with murderous vengeance during tracks like “The Pocket Knife” and “The Life And Death Of Mr. BadMouth.” The record roars with retaliation, piercing the eardrums with the propinquity of a midnight barrage. The production is covered entirely by Harvey. She also plays all instruments except for the drums. Any fan of PJ will welcome the primitiveness and coarseness of the new material, which brings to mind The Kills instead of a studio-polished Patti Smith. The best moments arrive without warning. Highlights include the soft black ballad "The Desperate Kingdom of Love" and the frayed gruff squall of "Cat on the Wall." First single “The Letter” is a melodic hymn to snail mail which materializes into another startling sexy metaphor about “Licking envelopes and taking the cap off your pen.” But the record begs for more and ends too soon, even at fourteen tracks.

Uh Huh Her could almost be dubbed as the “coming down” record from her very optimistic last outing. Stories From The City.. was PJ at her pinnacle, bursting of adrenalized glee. Now the medication is wearing off, and it hurts not a little, but a lot. Whereas her previous endeavor brought to mind an open-minded acceptance and tenderness towards love, Uh Huh Her, is the foil with a stark contrast that suggests such coined clichés as “return to form” the likes of her 4-track demos. The best ingredient of the recipe is her ongoing, commanding presence as a performer, especially vocally. She belts with conviction even if there is nothing new of note here to go shouting to the mountains about. There is a tendency to contemplate “What if” she scrounged up a producer to hone the tracks and take out the hiss. There is no Steve Albini or a guest vocalist like Thom Yorke this time out to complement her. She is all alone and this is clearly a preference that has a direct correlation on the ambiance of the record.

You feel alone just listening and can immediately identify her frustration all the way through. It starts out strong, contains a couple of unfortunate one-minute filler tracks of little to no resonance, and the overall experience doesn’t beg for repeat listens. On the other hand, this is how I felt at first about Is This Desire, which has gone on to become my second favorite of hers. Uh Huh Her easily could be one of those albums that takes time to grow on even the most dedicated fan. PJ still has beauty and poise that is unrivaled by the likes of posers such as Karen O, but it feels like something is missing, and maybe that’s exactly what she needed to convey this time around. Let’s hope she finds exactly what she’s looking for and allows for an even more compelling listen.

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