Aimee Mann
The Forgotten Arm
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Halfway through Aimee Mann’s latest, The Forgotten Arm, she sings about going through the motions. Unfortunately this is a pertinent statement regarding the record in its entirety. As an avid fan, I have adored every single solo effort from the former Til Tuesday songstress, including her fear and self-loathing lo-fi basement record, Lost In Space, which many found to be too dawdling and painfully crestfallen. (“It’s Not” is one of the best twenty songs of the past decade or so in my opinion). It’s similar to the knee-jerk reaction that Matthew Sweet must’ve had after making the depressing Altered Beast which didn’t settle well with critics or fans, so he crafted the upbeat pop record 100% Fun. The best that can be said about Forgotten Arm is that she externalizes a bit more instead of vanishing inside her own emotional complexities. This time, it’s all about two other people enduring the trials and tribulations. The concept behind Aimee Mann's fifth solo album revolves around a former boxer that returns from Vietnam addicted to smack, and both he and his softhearted girlfriend undergo painful rehab and a daunting period of adjustment. It’s satisfactory to hear Mann breaking outward with a story to tell, but this is not her Million Dollar Baby. There is very little to latch onto and chord structures come out sounding weary and rather ordinary even by her standards.

The tempos stay sullenly mid-tempo and there is not one iota of tear-jerking catharsis as during the many moments of her best effort, “Bachelor No. 2”. The blurred narrative does remain consistent and the delicately restrained sing-along story-songs of The Forgotten Arm allow for Mann to branch out conceptionally but the melodies rarely stick like they once did. Singer and producer Joe Henry fashion a more undemanding light-pop album with very little dynamic grandeur to help build a larger scope for her characters. It’s more of a studio record than Lost In Space, but there’s very little evidence of experimentation. This strict, clear-cut tactic demonstrates that Mann's country-tinged songs can be quite lethargic and monotonous, something I never felt before listening to previous records. However, “That’s How I Knew This Story Would Break My Heart” does recall her desolate, inhibited ballads of the immaculate Magnolia contributions while “I Can’t Get My Head Around It” is a pleasant, unsullied, brisk example of levelheaded pop built around a pulsating bass. But she seems emotionally detached from the proceedings, which was never a problem before. Overall it’s more of a been-there, done-that record for Mann, only infusing anticipation for what’s around the bend. It’s kind of a drag to listen to Mann settle for “good enough” instead of “better” but that doesn’t mean I can’t hold out hope for the next enterprise.

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