eMusic Review
"Sad people dance too," Thao Nguyen mutters before her band breaks into the parched-out funk of "Easy." Her third album is all about treating heartbreak not as a reason to crawl into a shell, but as a fascinating state to be observed, investigated, and even danced with. She sings about being betrayed by desire and sex, and trying to get something meaningful out of the experience — "we asked our lovers to break us so we could be of use," she seethes on "Good Bye Good Luck."
Her guitar pokes gingerly around these songs, as if it's trying to avoid direct contact with something that's still too sore. The rest of the band is punchy and celebratory, for the most part: there are backing vocals, keyboards, boisterous appearances by horns and strings. The centerpiece of every arrangement, though, is Nguyen's bruise-tender voice — part Cat Power, part Beth Orton, giving every carefully measured-out word precise spin. "What am I, just a body in your bed?" she yelps in the chorus of "Body," and every time she hits that "bed" it turns into a razor-sharp blue note slipped between the melody's ribs.