The Useless Critic 2.0

When world-traveller (Swedish by birth, of course, as most good things are) Lykke Li found her way upon the popular scene in 2008, she was young. She was vulnerable; she was alluring. She spoke with a tarnished innocence and her husky, whispery voice matched, just the same. After all: it was for YOU she kept her legs apart. In 2011, then, Li has returned after a certainly long-enough absence. Some artists return after a gap and it's like they've been there, the whole time. Nothing's changed. Dust has gathered on their act, tired and routine. However, for Miss Li (not to be confused with that particular singer, also Swedish) things are decidedly different. The innocence is gone. Lykke Li has grown old, before her 20something years. But with age, comes maturity. Comes a developed sex appeal. She has learned her lessons and she's got her broken heart on display, under the weak protection of her ribs. "I was born with a broken heart," she said in a revealing i...

I have been going through my Fiona discography like whoa this past week. I don't know what spurred me on- I think one of her songs came up on my iPod shuffle and as triggered to go through her stuff and rekindle my love for her, the way middle-aged couples define getting together once a week to have sex while the kids are away as passion reignited. I came to a theory, while listening to "Limp" and "Shadowboxer" again and again (just like the good old days- not really). there are certain weights of estrogen-ladled singer-songwriters out there. There is Tori Amos, who is apeshit. There is Rachael Yamagata, who is sweet and has a few good songs but yet has to do something of real impact. There is Regina Spektor, who is talented but relies too much on being precious and quirky to do anything that makes me want to listen to HER discography again (barf). Then you have a whole host of others- Sarah McLachlan, Nicole Atkins, Sara Barielles, etc. ALANIS, OH MY GOD, WILL ...