
After listening to local artist Carol Bui's Everyone Wore White, released earlier this month on 54º 40' or Fight! Records, one gets the feeling that she would have been a superstar if the album came out in 1995. Owing more to P.J. Harvey and post-grunge than Lily Allen or Feist, the album seems like an out of place throwback as far as the mainstream goes. What we are left with is a strong effort that showcases a talented singer and songwriter whose work showcases maturity.
The album certainly won't make us forget the likes of Ms. Polly Jean, and there is no trailblazing going on here, but this release is a welcome addition to D.C.'s catalog of local music. The songs themselves are dark, textured, and well constructed. If the album has a flaw, it is that the material is too dark. Bui's lyrics put such a focus on gloom and melancholy that unless one is in the midst of a painful breakup or trying to deal with serious emotional turmoil, listening to the album in one sitting becomes a challenge.
Everyone Wore White is largely a collaboration between Bui and T.J. Lipple. A member of the band Aloha, Lipple produced and engineered the album while also playing drums on several tracks. He and Bui assembled a strong supporting cast who provide a level of musicianship that is uncharacteristic of today's indie rock. Notable guests include Chad Clark of Beauty Pill, and violinist Daniel Hart of The Polyphonic Spree, who is currently a principle in North Carolina's The Physics of Meaning.
The recording has a clean sound to it, so even songs such as the opening track, "1", with its intro of thrashing guitars over trashy cymbals, don't sound like a jumbled mess. Bui's vocals are drenched in reverb through much of the album, but not to the point where it sounds overproduced. This approach works because she favors melodic phrases built of long notes, and the effects give her voice an ethereal quality that is an effective contrast to the frenetic rock underneath. Hart's violin and Jenny Petrow's cello also provide an additional layer of melody and really standout on a track like the ballad, "Eol".
The lyrics for "The Year After" are characteristic of the recording's mood. Bui expresses her heartbreak with lines like, "I'm colder than you'll ever feel this winter/I hated your lies/I hated what you meant to me," but then goes into a soaring chorus that admits her ongoing attraction to the wrong person. Much of the lyrical content follows related themes of failed relationships, romantic or otherwise. One notable song is "Rockville", possibly an autobiographical song telling the story of a difficult childhood. With all of the dense arrangements and heavy themes on Everyone Wore White, the album's peaceful closer, "Qua Câu Gió Bay", provides a welcome relief. A traditional Vietnamese song sung a cappella, it gives some hint of a light at the end of the tunnel.
Photo from Carol Bui's MySpace page

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I think it's because of the sexy far-off vulnerable look on her face, but on my initial look at the headline, I was sure it said "Everyone's Whore Wife". Probably a different angle than what Carol Bui was going for, but certainly more attention grabbing.
What do Lily Allen and Feist have to do with Carol Bui? Her sound is post-punk or post-hardcore, if we must label it--the only thing Bui share with the other two artists is gender.
Personally, I think suggesting that Bui is walking in PJ Harvey's footprints is kind of insulting--sure there's a passing resemblance, but Bui has a distinctive sound, vocally and instrumentally. You're not suggesting that any woman who dares to venture into the realm of indie rock must pass the P.J. Harvey test, are you? (I'm guessing the Liz Phair test is now defunct.)
'Owing more to P.J. Harvey and post-grunge than Lily Allen or Feist, the album seems like an out of place throwback as far as the mainstream goes'
if she owes so much to the 90s, P.J. or postgrunge, whatever that means, then all these other bands that dc-ist likes to applaud owe everything to every popular beach band in the 60s and 70s, belle & sebastian, and each other. come on now.
Belle & Sebastian was an excellent cartoon -- for a 7-year-old.