With considerable teeth-cutting experience (as a member of Igloo and KayDee) behind her, a creatively lucrative songwriting partnership organised with influential Irish composer John Hughes and a Jonathan Ross recommendation under her belt, it seems like it's already falling into place for Wicklow-born diva TARA BLAISE as her debut album blinks in the commercial dawn.
And, initially, you can begin to understand why this striking blonde colleen is already attracting hot-under-the-collar responses and unlikely Kate Bush comparisons, as "Dancing On The Tables Barefoot"s early clutch of tracks suggests a rich and accomplished record this way comes. Opener "The Three Degrees" supplies the album's title as well as a poppy, hooky tune full of wild reminiscence and losing one's innocence courtesy of Giorgio Moroder which makes it abundantly clear that Ms. Blaise is rather tasty in the ethereally breathy vocal stakes.
One down, and with the likes of "Superman In A Bottle" and "21 Years", the initial impression appears to be confirmed. The former proffers a proficiently modern sound with loops and programming and a nod to Bjork as well as a glossy flourish of a chorus, while "21 Years" is arguably the best track here, showing Tara can master a string-drenched ballad cloaked in sadness and an abjectly melancholic chorus ("All the roses fall/ All the trees no matter how tall, eventually.") Altogether now: Aaahh!!
More of this satisying variety and "Dancing..." could happily sweep you up in its' gently hedonistic reverie, but sadly from hereon in, the album suffers from its' desire to score on a commercial level and - for all the nigh-on perfect ear candy - rarely sounds like it's come directly from Tara's heart. It's all the more frustrating because songs like "Paperback Cliche" and "Later" are superficially quite decent, jaunty pop outings, but they're too forced to work effectively and the positively gauche guitar solo that strangles the life out of the latter shows how desperate Blaise's musical team are to throw in the kitchen sink to get results.
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From there on, it's pretty much downhill all the way. "For Your Own Good" finds the strings reaching for the stars and a big, expectorant sensurround, but it's all a bit too ethereally interchangeable for comfort; "Little Girl" is simpler and more plaintive, but underachieves and "Ladybird" commits the heinous crime of reminding this writer of The Cranberries. Hell, wasn't once enough for you people?
She does rally a little with "Feel Free" and "Radio Star", which both benefit from swaggering guitar riffs and concise'n'swoony vocals, but the rearguard action is dashed by the woeful closing tune "Unbearable Lightness", where Tara teams up with the Irish Film Orchestra and - predictably - the results are as bloated and cod-pretentious as the worst RTE presentations and worthy of (whisper it) the Corrs comparisons also floating around where Ms.Blaise is concerned.
A shame, then, as your reviewer had set out with the hope that Tara Blaise could have been up there with the likes of fabulous new female vocalists such as Polly Paulusma and Siobhan Parr, who are more than enough to enrich the most discerning of tastes. Sadly, while Tara Blaise is clearly a consummate vocalist, the music she's been aligned to is too glossy and anodyne to hit home. "Dancing On Tables Barefoot"'s title conjures up images of sultry alcoholic-fuelled abandon, but the reality is ultimately closer to having a table of drinks emptied over your new pair of trousers on their first outing. And you only ever remember such an event for the wrong reasons, right?
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