Martha Wainwright-Martha Wainwright

Martha Wainwright-Martha Wainwright VBR

Year 2005

Tracks
1. Far Away 2:54
2. G.P.T. 2:43
3. Factory 3:31
4. These Flowers 4:10
5. Ball & Chain 3:17
6. Don't Forget 4:11
7. This Life 6:00
8. When The Day Is Short 3:46
9. Bmfa 3:14
10. TV Show 4:09
11. The Maker 4:08
12. Who Was I Kidding? 4:10
13. Whither Must I Wander 2:46

As I write this review "[B.M.F.A]" plays on ... again. In addition to being one the best of the best songs in this album -both lyrically and musically- this potentially controversial tune can lead you to appreciate everything that's great about Martha Wainwright's full-length debut.
To begin, it shows the impressive dramatic range she can reach wit her voice, managing to be authentically vulnerable, sincerely outraged and hopeful to reach, perhaps, who the song's about -which from reading some recent reviews may be her father Loudon, whom she has dedicated this song to in concerts. Vocal talents that are also powerfully displayed in many other songs, specially in the beautiful Pop and wrenching lyrics of "Factory," the longing of "Far Away," and the honesty of "TV Show."
In no way less important to what makes this music so moving are, of course the lyrics -penned by her except for "Whither I Must Wander"- which can go from raw confessions (No idea how it feels to be on your own / In your own home / With the f***ing phone / And the mother of gloom / In your bedroom / Standing over your head / With her hand in your head). Or her wondering in "Wild Flowers" that "they are like those children / who go off to school and don't come back / and I am like their mother / waiting around about to crack," yet accepting that "these wild flowers are coming up wild."
Praise must be given too to the arrangements and production -she co-produced- which are rather fitting for what Martha has to say, knowing when to remain understated or propel her voice further.
All in all, this is a marvelous album. The work of a young woman with nothing to apologize for and the strong intention to make war or to make peace with us, depending on what she needs to say. Caressing or jolting us as it's needed for us to listen closely.
Much is being said about her predisposition for talent, given her family's musical might -whether you think of father Loudon, her mother Anna McGarrigle, or her bro Rufus. I'm convinced that the abundant greatness in her songs is hers to claim. She's more her own voice that an extension of their genes. Her talent, the pretty and painful sides of it, is her gift and, clearly her mission to share.