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If Aimee Mann were, say, ten years older, her career would have kicked so much ass. The late '60s and early '70s were really the perfect time for wry, world-weary female singer-songwriters to ply their trade, and Aimee Mann would have been fine company for the likes of Joan Baez, Carole King, or Judy Collins.
As it is, Aimee Mann formed her first band in the early '80s, when music fans were allying themselves either with Bruce Springsteen, Christopher Cross, or the Stray Cats. The female performers dominating the scene were Cyndi Lauper and Madonna. Sure, Aimee Mann wore that vaguely Cyndi-esque spider-plant hairdo when she was singing lead for 'Til Tuesday, but it didn't really suit her.
By the time Aimee Mann released her first solo album, she had the unfortunate timing to bring it to market just as Nirvana, and all its grungy contemporaries, were taking up all the world's attention. The album, Whatever, was largely ignored, which is a shame, because it's really great. The first track, "I Should've Known," is as fine a pop song as anyone has any reason to expect -- angsty, but more resigned than angry in its tone, and arranged in a register accessible for singalongs, which is wise for a song with witty, true lyrics: "And I don't know what else you hear but it's not me weeping...I should've known." Take that, "Smells Like Teen Spirit"!
As if the flop of her first, near-perfect album were not a severe enough kick in the teeth, Aimee Mann was then subjected to several years of record label fuckery that delayed the release of her next album, I'm With Stupid. Her best-known single, "That's Just What You Are," was chosen for the Melrose Place soundtrack but rather than release Mann's album featuring that single, and capitalize on the Melrose momentum, months went by, and the album fell on deaf ears.
Finally, Aimee Mann has been blessed by good timing. Directing wunderkind P.T. Anderson asked her to supply the non-symphonic music for his latest film, Magnolia -- and it couldn't have come at a better time, because just before the release of the film, Aimee Mann's label dropped her, further delaying the already long-delayed release of her third album, Bachelor No. 2. I couldn't possibly be any more grateful to Anderson for this, because while I'd heard Aimee Mann's name and vaguely knew that she'd been that chick in 'Til Tuesday, I had no idea how remarkable she is until I watched Anderson's defeated losers sing along with her "Wise Up," and started weeping, simultaneously wishing that I knew the words and could sing along, too.
After I stepped out of the cinema showing Magnolia, I embarked upon a holy quest to find the soundtrack (having also fallen in love with "Momentum" based only on the snatch I'd heard in the movie's trailer), which at the time was curiously absent from stores. And having no luck whatever finding her previous two albums, I ordered them from an online retailer as soon as I got home.
That was two months ago. And in that time, there has not been a CD in my office stereo that has not featured Aimee Mann. Even as I sing along, I curse all the time I'd lost when I could have been listening to her brilliant, clever lyrics, perfectly turned musical phrases, and mournful voice. I'm exactly the kind of person who should have been listening to Aimee Mann all along, and I resent all the forces in the business world that have, until now, prevented me from recognizing her genius.
It's not that I expect the same kind of marketing money behind Aimee Mann, and her musical products, that goes into the coffers of a Mandy Moore, for instance. I just hope that the recognition she's received from her work on Magnolia translates into more attention for everything she does from now on. I don't care if Aimee Mann's next album includes a cover of "Candy" -- I want to hear it, but before I can hear it, I need to know that it exists. Aimee Mann deserves to have more people to know that she exists.
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