Polly Paulusma Fingers And Thumbs by: Al Cottrill Mon:04-Jun-07 Label: One Little Indian Year: 2007 WB rating 48 out of 100

I can see it now: Me and Polly Paulusma – we would not last long. Everything would be great at first; pretty, light-hearted, loving. Despite her girly charms, she was smart, funny and spoke from the heart. And she could drink. But after a while it would all wear thin, the superficiality of this physical relationship becoming clearer each moment. Days blended into each other as nothing changed, variation absent from our entwined existence. It became boring; irksome in the safety and banality of our conversations. The edge at first implied, revealed itself to be blunt with production, and I only wished for a life less ordinary.

Yet all I have to base the jaundice of my daydreams on is Paulusma’s second album, Fingers And Thumbs.

That is not to say it was all a waste of time. First single ‘The Woods’ is hidden towards the rear of the album, track nine of ten. One of the stronger songs, it is worthy of it’s status as a single, but is not necessarily a strong indicator of the rest of the album’s content. The psych-folk comparisons being thrown around by some are misplaced, with esoteric lyrics the only true nod to this genre. The music on the other hand is surprisingly light-on, a droning bass and repetitive hi-hat augmented by string section; it’s atmosphere-lite, but overall entertaining. Despite having its foundations built upon folk influences, the album veers between indie-pop and rock. Paulusma’s voice is far from conventional, sitting somewhere between Joanna Newsom, Regina Spektor and Missy Higgins; certainly closer to the indie-pop femmes than the psych-folk of Akron/Family or Devendra Banhart.

Unfortunately for Paulusma, these distinctive vocals are far more bearable when they stray back towards the conventional; when she pushes the extremes of her delivery, twisting her accent to a smoky husk and tending towards childish enunciation, the resulting inflection grates. This afflicts ‘Godgrudge’ more than most (and closer ‘Matilda’ the most), otherwise more-than-competent, its classic pop arrangement is full enough to make it interesting. ‘Where I’m Coming From’ is of the same school as its precursor, but its edges have been buffed smooth. A box-fresh piece of production, it is richly textured and brimming with sound, but unfortunately somewhat tiresome as a result (not to mention the inexplicable mid-90’s flavour). These songs are not unpleasant, but they hardly excite the senses. If she truly wants me back, she needs to learn that sometimes, stimulation is better than safety. For God’s sake, the girl is talented; someone fire her up, and give her some backing to rip into.

Paulusma is certainly not helped by her publicity, which is slightly overzealous in describing Fingers And Thumbs as “an intensely bruised, raw and honest second album, It's enchanting simplicity framed by her warm husk of a voice”. Certainly, the personal tragedies of two miscarriages through the creation of this album warrant such emotion, there is no doubting the songs are borne of personal struggles. But they do not sound like it. If I was not to push my ears to define the words she sings, all meaning would pass me by. The run-of-the-mill pop instrumentation means that the songs could be anyone, and her gentle odes and rousing stomps deserve more than this.

‘All The Time’ works better, Paulusma’s voice allowed to reach high into her upper limits, with a delicate, near-breaking vulnerability, then alternating to her almost-drunk slur of the verses. The song’s second movement sees Paulusma breaks out rock-style, but 4.20 is where the show should end, instead of repeating tirelessly on for another three minutes. Probably the album highlight, even ‘Back to the Start’ has its problems, dragged down by tinny drums too prominent in the mix. Skipping amongst Paulusma’s positive vocals, the otherwise feel-good vibe and choral support is why it shines brighter than other album picks, ‘All The Time’ and ‘Godgrudge’. Apart from the simplistic ‘Ready or Not’, the album’s final stages are characterised by slower ballads, such as Joanna Newsom-ish ‘Fingers and Thumbs’ and the piano-lounge feel of ‘Matilda’. If anything, they show Paulusma’s competence as a performer, perfectly comfortable in her skin, letting her voice and lyrics be judged on their own against threadbare accompaniments.

All that I ask though, is for the songs to take off once in a while. They never feel as though they are going to explode or collapse, never building to precarious peaks, never slipshod freefalls. They are a gentle drive through undulating country hillsides; pleasant, but hardly exciting. And it hurts the final product. Think of the way your ears pricked to Regina Spektor, it was quirky, not weird, but interesting. And that is what this album needs, some experimentation. Paulusma will no doubt find an audience, there is nothing wrong with her music, but her beautiful voice should be allowed to run free (and avoid babyish tendencies). All this album needs is for her to let go, to close her eyes and go for it. Maybe then I would be willing to give ‘us’ another try.