No Sing-Along For You!

And my more personal and longer Indigo Girls.

I remember being in college in southern Iowa when Indigo Girls started singing their biggest hit, "Closer to Fine." God, I wanted to get closer to that, too! Here was my generation’s Simon & Garfunkel. Finally, I had an album to replace the James Taylor and Cat Stevens vinyl I stole from my parents' forgotten collection at the age of seven. Indigo Girls were talented, and they came with diversity included; I couldn’t wait to take my boom box to the next pot-fueled college bon fire! I did, and it only took a few listens and we were all singing along.

Because of their ever-present talent, Indigo Girls have fans that are in for thick and thin. Even if their first album in 1987 only caught the attention of REM fans in their native corner of Georgia, their second release – Indigo Girls – sealed them in the hearts of late 20th century hippie-wannabes, feminists, and lesbians alike.

Fans commit for life, because each of IG’s eleven studio albums has a few tracks that are songwriting jems, glowing with sing-along harmonies. (And if you’ve ever plan to got one of their warm-fuzzy concerts, you’d better know the lyrics to at least a few of their songs!)

The distinct problem with the Girls lies not in the dynamic duo’s skill, but in their team’s execution. Anyone can separate the IG’s albums into two categories: those with great songs and interesting production, or those with great songs and ho-hum production. In the former category are their eponymous album, Rites of Passage, and Come on Now Social. In the latter are also a few, namely: their last album and this one, Despite Our Differences.

One would think with uber-producer Mitchell Froom at the sound board, there’d be very little to worry about. Froom is largely responsible in transferring Neil Finn from his experimental Split Enz days to the glories of early Crowded House. Froom also helped make his wife, Suzanne Vega, stand out as a folkie who had a few good chart hits in the late 80s and early 90s. He also helped Vega create one of the most gloriously weird folk albums of all times: 99.9 Fahrenheit Degrees.

Froom goes boom! He fails. He lets down this dynamic duo and their legions of fans.

The Indigo Girls are basically a Southern lesbian Simon & Garfunkel: a folk duet - although they do have a slight, slight punk rock leaning. Emily Saliers and Amy Ray really need a producer who can capitalize on their anarchy, their experimentation, and their individuality. If not, IG albums sonically end up being the same stuff you can hear strummed out at any Borders or Barnes & Nobles on any Saturday night across America. Froom completed a squeaky clean album. Meaning: he wasn’t up to the task of helping define and refine these lovely melodies into a kick-ass album.

Perhaps, too much of his bland latter-day piano work informs Despite Our Differences. Perhaps, there was a fear of taking risks like the IGs have previously done so successfully by including bongos, or singing with The Roches, or electrifying the guitars a bit, or having REM’s Michael Stipe blow out a cheap tin whistle for the bridge of a song.

Sad, because Emily’s missive to Amy – the title track – is extremely personal and emotionally stirring. Amy’s “Dirt and Dead Ends,” an eulogy to a meth-addicted friend, is downright arresting. They’re always helped by brilliant craft on their part. One track is assisted by some lovely background growl from pop singer Pink. Sadly, Despite Our Differences is just hindered by an utter lack of imagination on producer Froom’s part.

Guess I’ll just have to wait another couple years till I have a great disc to take to a pot-fueled sing-along bonfire.