Former Killmama singer and Chicago transplant Sophie Sputnik has released her debut album as Waltzer, an album inspired by all those lost hours spent fantasizing about an ideal future, titled Time Traveler.
The album builds on Sophie’s affinity for ’60s, girl groups and mid-century, pop standards to create an album that feels fittingly timeless and saturated with a sophisticated sense of sentimentality.
Just check out the dazzling, George Harison-esque “Destroyer” below, and try to tell me she isn’t on to something here:
I’d like to say that you don’t hear pop music like this much anymore, but the truth is that you do. It’s just usually not done this well. How Sophie sidesteps much of the blundering, self-inflicted injuries that afflict artists in this lane, is her ability to evade the all too easy trap of “authenticity.” Because when dealing with strangers (which, let’s face it, most of us are), they never want the real you.
They want the you that will show them something spectacular. And there is no harm done in telling them that this is exactly what they’re getting (“We want a show!” as the old chant goes …).
The big show bravura and updated vaudeville Americana that Sophie puts on as Waltzer is a very self-consciously an act, and while it’s clear that the emotions and feelings expressed on Time Traveler flow from the well-water of Sophie’s soul, the way she presents these emotions is in a grandiose pantomime that makes them feel realer than real. In this way, it is like she is leading the audience to participate in a game of make-believe, where even sour feelings have their sugarcoating, and we can all stay above the crush of despair that bombards us daily, provided we’re all able to sing their hearts out along with her.
The wink she gives you behind her mask is as central an aspect of Waltzer’s sound as the thumping rockabilly, heel-pop that animates rockers like “Ugly Misfits,” or the boiling-point, wild-fire soul and Americana of “Eugene,” which, like a reverse “Running of That Hill,” is about the irreducible similarities between men and women, and Sophie’s own experience of masculinity.
The bluesy sway and R ‘n’ B skip of “Lantern” are about Sophie’s real insecurities proceeding her flagging attention span, but when those starlight guitars and the thunder-clap backbeat roar to life in the bridge, it feels like a song about the struggle for life itself. Which, for anyone who has ever felt like they were in a battle of wits with themselves, can actually could be.
The crowd pleasers on Time Traveler are obviously going to be the hot tempo’d numbers like “Eugene” and songs with barn-burners melodies like “Destroyer,” but I don’t feel as though these songs necessarily represent the culmination of its strengths. No, the keystone of the album, its most stable point in my opinion, is the country-tinted quiver of the title track.
A piano centered ballad that coos and soothers the ear with a touch of hopeful resolve, brushing against the follicles of your hair like the close, balmy breath of a lover resting on your cheek. It sounds like something Neko Case would write if she were attempting to compose an Emmylou Harris song. It’s soft and inviting, but its openness allows a sorrowfulness to leak through, like sap from a tree. You can collect it and taste it, and it will be sweet on your tongue, but it will fill you with a sense of regret that will be hard to place.
You can stream Waltzer’s debut album Time Traveler via Bandcamp below:
Grab Time Traveler on vinyl here.
