She and Him - Volume One

True story: I picked up this album and a few others at Barnes & Noble. Let me explain: I don’t normally shop for music there, but I happened to receive a 40% coupon one day in my inbox. It was good for one weekend only and it could only be redeemed in-store.
So I go to Barnes & Noble, kids in tow, and I’m quickly perusing the cds when I really want to absorb them, just like I would if I was there alone.
Just like the good old days of record shopping.
I’m not alone, and the two that I’m with are four and 10 months. The four year old is still trying to understand why we’re there, since I told him that we needed to pick up some bread. He’s no dummy. As soon as we pulled into the parking lot, he correctly declared, “We don’t get bread here.”
Busted.
I explain that I need to pick up something first, so then he’s all set for an in-and-out job, which is something that I do not do when shopping for music. And since I don’t really have a plan of what to buy (the 40% off thing just prompted this spur of the moment decision), it’s very unlikely that we’re going to be quick about this stop.
No sooner do I reach the “H” section, the four year old starts bringing up ridiculous cd titles to me based entirely on the cover art and asking “Daddy, can I have this?” Meanwhile, my 10 month old has officially outgrown the Baby Bjorn as I’m struggling to get a line of sight to the products. I can only see the cds by looking around her head, which causes her to look at me to see what I’m doing which ends up blocking my vision entirely again.
It’s time to get the fuck out of Barnes & Noble.
One of the things that I do grab in a mad dash to the checkout register is She & Him. I only know two things about it: 1.) that Matt Ward is the “Him” of the duo and that 2.) It’s been getting a lot of decent press lately. I take a gamble and bring it up.
The clerk guy notices it and exclaims “That’s my last copy of this.” I’m not entirely sure how to answer this. My first reaction is to be an asshole and say, “Well then, let me put it back for you.” but then the baby starts whining and my main goal is to now pay and leave quickly.
“Is this getting a lot of airplay or something?” he asks, doing his best to be the chatty record store guy that, on any other day, would be more than happy to converse with.
“I don’t know.” I reply in between baby talkin’ in my daughter’s ear, trying to avoid a meltdown.
I briefly contemplate whether it’s 1995 again and record sales are indeed influenced by radio. I can’t recall the last time I ever bought anything thanks to radio airplay. “I’ve just heard some good things about it” I added, trying to not dissuade the clerk from interacting with those remaining souls that still buy cds while also attempting not to come across like a douchebag. Just as quick as I feel guilty, I remember, I’ve got a motherfucking baby strapped to the front of me. There’s no need to feel bad here! The guy should understand that I’m a little pressed for time. Ring me the fuck up or face a screaming baby in your jazz-fueled section!
“I had no idea that Zooey Deschanel could even sing!” he adds, causing me to stare blankly back at him in silence with a look that could only say, “Is it time for me to enter my pin number?”
It doesn’t bother me at all that I have no idea who Zooey Deschanel is. Fuck man, I’ve just now figured out who the cast of Cruel Intentions consisted of. That may make me uncool, but it’s still not as uncool as being close to my age and working at Barnes & Noble.
But of course, I still go home, surf the internet while listening to Volume One, and discover that Zooey Deschanel is some actor that I should know about from Elf and that other movie and, apparently, fancies herself as a singer on the side too. There are many accounts of people, including critics, exclaiming that she has a decent voice. In the next line, they also usually refer to Deschanel’s indie cred and how she looks cool.
I did not make that up either.
But for my money (which ended to be around $7.50, by the way) there is positively nothing remarkable about Ms. Deschanel’s vocal abilities and I could give a rat’s ass about her alternative “Q” score at all. There are moments on Volume One where she sounds like Jenny Lewis, there are others where she sounds like Leslie Gore, and there are other times in which she sounds a little like Melanie. All are perfectly fine inspirations but, like a good acting role, none of them show me anything about who Zooey Deschanel is. And fuckin’ a: if you’re going to cover “Swing Low Sweet Chariot” acapella…ACAPELLA! I’d better know you’re not jerking my chain.
M. Ward sound just a responsible too, floating in and out of SoCal mid-60’s pop to SoCal alt-country to early 60’s girl-group revisions with barely a hint of his lineage or leadership.
Volume One is a mess, but it’s a pleasant one. There’s not a thing on it that would have you reaching for the “stop” button, although “Chariot” did have me considering it and the duo’s cover of The Beatles’ “I Should Have Known Better” is nearly unforgiveable.
My prediction is that Volume Two, if there is one, won’t nearly be the curio as this one is proving to be based on the sales and hype coming out of the gate. And while She & Him may be placing Zooey Deschanel in a different light in some people’s eye, the album is certainly putting M. Ward in a different light for me, and not the one I’m sure he intended.
Let me clear: there’s nothing here that will turn anyone off, but there is an air of hot air lurking in these AM radio memories and not a lot of soul either. Had I spent more than $7.50 on Volume One, I probably would have been a little more critical of the album’s better moments that effortlessly flow from these two charming collaborators. But while charm may make She & Him tolerable, it sure as hell doesn’t make them memorable.