Eleni Mandell, Snakebite (Space Baby) 9+
Eleni Mandell is a supremely talented singer-songwriter from Los Angeles. With her 40s style black Betty bob haircut she could be the mousy librarian, the sassy waitress (her sometimes day job), the sultry torch singer, the viciously vindictive ex-lover, the tempestuous vixen. On Snakebite, her third and most accomplished album, she's greater than the sum of all those parts. The most noticeable improvement is that her band, consisting of a rockabilly-type set-up with Sheldon Gomberg on upright bass and Danny Frankel on drums, have been tightened and seasoned by time well spent on the road. Like PJ Harvey, Mandell is influenced by Tom Waits' mix of Hoagy Carmichael Tin Pan Alley pop, noirish balladry and beatnik blues. The album features many extra guests who contribute horns, lap steel guitars, keyboards, cello and must illustriously, X's D.J. Bonebrake on marimbas and vibes. "Dreamboat" is soothing as a breeze at 3 a.m. on the waterfront. "Pirate Song," is Mandell's version of a sea shanty about the ghost of an ex-lover, propelled by a romping standup bass, "He loved only one time and he loved her well/I will bury his broken hands, that he strangled me with/Oh, I begged him to do it…yes I did!" "Don't Lose My Trail" is one of her best efforts yet. We follow her on an image-rich road trip from New York to L.A., set to a mesmerizing repeating guitar riff and haunting organ. The title track is the most effective demonstration of the claustrophobia and suffocation of a relationship gone bad since PJ Harvey's "Rid Of Me," complete with desperate gasping. She even has a science fiction lullaby in "Silverlake," with a dreamy pedal steel guitar. Throughout the album, her singing is better than ever. She's more restrained than on her previous two albums, but the underlying power is evident, especially the few times she really lets loose. Mandell is developing into a singular talent with a persona potentially as unique and memorable as a Peggy Lee, a Wanda Jackson or a Dusty Springfield. The album cover portrays her crouched over a speeding motorcycle. She's going somewhere fast, and it's high time you abandon all sense of self-preservation and jump on for the ride.
