No elevator user in the world could bristle at Rhye’s debut. The guest would get in, go up, and get out, without ever realizing that he heard »Woman« through the speakers. The instrumentals wallow shallowly, the male (!) singer’s voice, belonging to Milosh, lulls the listener into a cloth of satin, conveying a feeling of intimacy – it’s this concept that’s responsible for the hype around the duo. However, on album-length, the concept is more damaging than fruitful. Instead of letting out all the emotions at the right place, the music just passes by the right places, very sensitively. Instead of the so badly needed intercourse, the record remains in petting-mode. It’s basically musical Tantra-sex. The only bit where the album is without constraints is at the way it quotes: R&B and soul of the 80s and 90s are constantly being referred to, while hardly ever being enriched by modern influences. What’s missing is a crucial, an individual approach. When I want to listen to a Sade-record, I listen to a Sade-record. »Woman« just sounds too much like one. However, those who manage to let go of their objectivity and don’t want to take sides between arts and hokum, will be quite pleased with this record. In addition to the already known »The Fall« and »Open«, some tracks like »Hunger« might have the potential to belong to best kind of contemporary pop-music. Plus, one can just lean back and enjoy the subtlety of the music. When choosing that approach, »Woman« is like a naked Sunday under bedlinen made of satin.
Σtella
Adagio
Sub Pop