All My CDs, pt 80: Everybody

Everybody - Ingrid Michaelson

This is my favorite Ingrid Michaelson album. There just seems to be a whole lot more variety on it than the other two albums of hers that I own. One thing that has occurred to me since those other two reviews is that almost all of Ingrid Michaelson’s songs are love songs. Though her approach to writing love songs is varied and nuanced, I can’t help but notice the repetition. Everybody is not much different in that regard, but I get a sense of energy and innovation that isn’t quite as prominent in the others.

The title track, Everybody, reminds us of the universality of love and its impact not just on everybody but on every aspect of human experience, and does so in an infectiously singable fashion. As such it makes an excellent case for the album’s existence as a collection of love songs (and the seemingly unbalanced focus on love in pop music in general). But few of the other songs are as lovey-dovey or saccharine as this one. Love is universal, but according to the rest of the songs, it is also destructive, overwhelming, risky, ellusive, fleeting, and conspicuously absent.

Are We There Yet depicts love as seemingly so close, but perpetually not quite there. Locked Up is more about the frustration of trying to find love against the wishes of one’s own untrusting heart. Soldier really nails the panicky feelings associated with finally taking that great and vulnerable step: “How do I know if I’ll make it through? How do I know? Where’s the proof in you?”

Sort Of recognizes that sometimes love, while true and passionate, may not be the best thing for one’s stability. Once Was Love is the happiest break-up song I’ve ever heard, cheerfully proclaiming:
Just because there once was love
don’t mean a thing, don’t mean a thing

The Chain might be my favorite on the album. Every line seems to drip with the truth of what I’ve felt with every heartbreak I’ve ever experienced, but free of the anger, denial, bitterness, or despair that seems always to stand in the way of healing. It’s open and peaceful, even during grief and pain.

That openness is also reflected in the final song, Maybe, which is also much more upbeat and happy. Its focus isn’t on the sadness of saying goodbye, but on the hope that it won’t be goodbye forever. It directly alludes to and embodies the spirit of that ever-wishful adage: “If you love something, let it go.” In my experience, that course of action has proven wise, if not by any means easy.

Having had enough of sweet songs, I’m looking forward to music with a bit of vinegar.

Next: Jagged Little Pill