It is, in a sense, a trick of the times that Lost in Space conveys such
a vivid visual quality; thanks to the high profile given to her music
on the Magnolia soundtrack, it's now impossible to miss the narrative
strength of Mann's writing. The mood throughout this album is autumnal,
with filmy keyboard beds and expressive shifts between major and minor
enhancing the subdued eloquence of her lyrics. (A major chord at the end
of "Guys Like Me offers an ironic twist on the smug portraiture that
precedes it.) Though recorded free of the legal snarls that plagued most
of her previous albums, Lost in Space seems to be mainly about alienation
and, at least as a metaphor, addiction. The latter point is made clear
in "This Is How It Goes," with its assertions that "it's
all about drugs, it's all about shame." But it's clear as well when
Mann offers to "be your heroine" -- or is it heroin? -- amidst
slithering slide guitars and rainy gray textures on "High on Sunday
51," or confesses to seeking salvation where "It's Not."
Recorded largely in Ryan Freeland's home studio, some of these songs receive
discreet electronic treatments -- moments of abstract noise whose application
always enhances the otherwise low-tech arrangements. For all the shadows
that stretch across Lost in Space, what lingers in the wake of this music
is the realization that Mann remains spectacularly underrated among contemporary
songwriters; no one surpasses her as a master of poetic regret, and few
albums examine the peculiar beauty of depression with the skill she brings
to Lost in Space.
(by Robert L. Doerschuk, All
Music Guide)
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