Big sounds, big ideas, big thrills. On her second album, Katell Keineg has the nerve to promise a cosmic experience and the skills to deliver. Though the sweetly graceful vocals echo such civilized folks as Joni Mitchell and Natalie Merchant, Keineg's friskier than either of 'em, and her knack for turning simple tunes into breathtaking epics can be flat-out dazzling. In other words: Wow!
While the album's concerns include such vexing matters as mortality and loneliness, Jet makes it hard not to smile, because raging passion illuminates every note. Though the spooky "Ole, Conquistador" scoffs at the "patriarchal order," and the soaring "Leonor" celebrates a real-life free spirit of the Surrealist era, Keineg's flair for the dramatic is usually its own message, an inspirational display of exuberant will.
That's just as well, since her headlong delivery and the dynamic waves of sound can make it impossible to figure out exactly what's going on. Better simply to savor the breezy cool of "Veni, Vidi, Vici" or surrender to the vortex of "Marietta", highlighted by Keineg's exotic Yoko-like effects. Wailing, singing, sighing, and generally wringing every drop of emotion from the colorful melodies, she often seems on the verge of babbling in tongues, consumed by rapture and loving every second of it.
Keineg makes lousy background music, because she can't be ignored. Consider "Smile", a standout among many stellar tracks. Beginning as an insistent whisper, it slowly builds to an electrifying, primal shriek chorus; meanwhile, the dense, finely detailed production (by Keineg, Eric Drew Feldman, and John Holbrook) reveals exciting facets with every listen. More than a well-crafted piece of product, Jet will intoxicate anyone who still believes pop music can transcend dreary reality.