Trailer Park: Beth Orton's Debut Album

Beth Orton's 1996 solo debut, "Trailer Park," mixed electronica with introspective ballads that laid bare her personal life.

Born in Norfolk, England Beth Orton entered music almost on a whim after meeting dance producer William Obit in a London night club. Obit and Orton formed Spill, recording a version of John Martyn's "Don't Wanna Know About Evil," which became the first track off of the duet's album, SuperPinkyMandy.

Orton continued to work with Obit, co-writing and singing the track "Water From a Vine Leaf" on his 1993 album, Strange Cargo 3. Orton then formed a band of her own comprised of guitarist Ted Barnes, drummer Will Blanchard, keyboard player Lee Spencer, and double bassist Ali Friend. Her first solo release, Trailer Park, blended samples and trippy-hop beats together with acoustic guitars and passionate observations.

Influenced By Nick Drake

Orton's pained delivery and downcast lyrics were influenced by early 70s folk casualty Nick Drake. Whereas Drake's depression ruled him, ultimately contributing to his premature demise, Orton’s personal disappointments inspired her.

"She Cries Your Name" commences with slippery, electronic strings and Orton's Drake-like chording. Orton's percussive guitar blends with Blanchard's rat-a-tat drumming and Spencer's sneaky bits of sonar-like synths, updating Drake's look-into-my-soul sound.

"Tangent" is ominous, foggy electronica with a bomping double bass beat, tensioned-horror film strings and a marvelously defeated vocal by Orton. Blanchard's jazzy drumming provides a whipping and rolling backdrop to Keith Teniswood's ray gun synth strikes and assorted threatening violins and violas.

A quiet acoustic beginning followed by a rush of strings that recalls "Linger" by The Cranberries introduces "Don't Need A Reason," one of Orton's most personal tomes. "Don't Need a Reason" offers a glimpse into one of Orton's abusive relationships: "We only hurt the ones we love, and we don't need a reason. You're gonna get all you deserve, and all that you believe in." The lush strings bathe Orton's melancholy mumbling and provide instrumental icing.

Orton employs the quiet pop of a conga to accent Blanchard's calypso styled drumming in "Sugar Boy." The chorus is a flourish of hand claps and sweeping organ supplied by David Boulter, with Orton pointing a lyrical finger at the dude who done her wrong: "Well I told you I loved you, now what more can I do? Told you I loved you, you beat my heart black and blue. I told you I loved you, now what more can I do? Do you want me to lay down and die for you? Do you want me to lay down and die?"

Orton turns beat poet with "Touch Me With Your Love." She recites her opening lines to a repetitive bass line against percussion that sounds like a quarter dropping on the pavement. Orton slurs her way through the verses like her heroine, Bobbie Gentry, tapping into the soft shuffle beat as Friend plucks out an impressive solo on double bass.

"Whenever" gives the listener a break from the thick electronica, casting Orton back in her Nick Drake cloak. Dancing acoustic guitars, happy double-tracked "do-do-do-da-days" give "Whenever" an extended "Pink Moon" feel.

"How Far" is another stab at cutie pie pop. There's clean electric guitar work from guest Andrew Hackett and a snappy, 60s girl group arrangement with syncopated clapping, shaking tambourines and a double-tracked Beth.

A now blissful Beth makes it three pop tunes in a row with "Someone's Daughter," which benefits from Blanchard's tripping snare, Orton's unabashed wailing and Barnes's dynamic mandolin and guitar work.

Orton then covers The Ronettes' "I Wish I Never Saw Sunshine," wearing her pain on the end of her guitar strings and in her wraith-like cries. The arrangement plays off of Orton’s unrestrained phrasing, and she delivers a performance that reaches out and grabs the listener’s heart.

With the epic ten minute closer, "Galaxy of Emptiness," Orton returns to bubbling, sputtering space electronica, special effects, and undulating upright bass. In “To Hell and Back With Beth Orton,” an April 27, 2009 on line interview with Danny Eccleston for Mojo Magazine, Orton said “Galaxy” came out of a feeling of dread and was inspired by a quote from T.S. Eliot’s’ Wasteland.

The most experimental and least accessible track on the album, “Galaxy of Emptiness,” clocks in at ten swirling, psychotic minutes, but there's nothing empty about it.

The Rest of the Catalogue

Orton's sophomore effort,Central Reservation(1999), was a continuation of the folk and electronica themes that tapped into Orton’s reservoir of wounded memories. Reservation's haunting highlights included "The Sweetest Decline," a withering waltz with weeping violins; the "Outer Limits" opulence of "Stars That Seem to Weep," and the free flowing funk of "Love Like Laughter." Orton seemed on her way to fulfilling her promise as her generation's Nick Drake.

That promise was slowed by Daybreaker (2002), her third release. When Orton played to her strengths, such as the chugging muted-horn funk of "Anywhere" and the computerized melancholy of "Thinking About Tomorrow," Daybreaker matched the techno splendor of the previous two albums.

Orton stripped down some of her songs on Daybreaker, and without the fuller sound her occasionally indecipherable accent was more exposed. Songs that could have been interesting now came across as bores. Orton also collaborated with the never exciting Ryan Adams on the pedestrian travelogue "Concrete Sky." Adams also wrecked "This One's Gonna Bruise" and "Carmella" with his vanilla alt country influence, and Emmylou "Hear's a Who" Harris condemned "God's Song" with her foggy mental breakdown back up singing.

Orton moved away from electronica altogether with 2006’s Comfort of Strangers, creating a more traditional folk sound that didn’t translate into increased sales. (Daybreaker hit #8 in the U.K. Strangers stalled at #24.)

The birth of her daughter Nancy and her increased interest in philanthropic issues have slowed Orton’s output, but she plans to release a new album later this year.

3 ½ out of 5 stars

It's only rock n' roll, but I like it. , Photo courtesy of Gene Minasi

Michael Jefferson - Having suffered the slings and arrows associated with being a public relations professional for the past 30 years in organizations such as ...

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