various 
forms 
of 
inspiration. 

Pulling from the “trippy colors of 
my grandfather’s painting” to the 
production styles of producers 
like Steve Osbourne to the mental 
space she was in at the time, 
Carlton was able to construct her 
most peaceful, minimalist, folk-
inspired album.

“There’s something about being 

minimal and presenting just the 
essentials. I think that I had, in the 
past, come from a flamboyance,” 
Carlton said. “And I love dynamics 
in music and I think that we were 
still able to achieve that with 
Liberman, but I wanted the album 
to reflect where I was at. It had to 
be more peaceful.”

While still a little melancholy 

in the lyrics, Carlton uses her 
angelic voice and piano to create 
something 
that 
soothes. 
She 

self-describes the album as a 
“background sound album,” one 
that can delicately fill up the dead 
air of any backroom, bus, small 
gathering or late-night drink. And 
in this projected goal, Carlton 
undoubtedly 
succeeded. 
She 

produced half of Liberman with 
Steve Osbourne, a multi-platinum 
selling British music producer. 

Carlton, who loved his production 
stylings with the Doves, worked 
with Osbourne previously on 
Rabbits on the Run.

In describing her work with 

Osbourne, Carlton recounted the 
“incredible learning curve” that 
Osbourne initially presented.

“He is so incredibly talented,” 

Carlton said. “And I decided that 
I wanted to go further down this 
musical path with him. I wanted 
to go more into his sonic world.”

Specifically, Carlton praised 

Osbourne for helping her to 
harness her voice to assume a role 
as one of the most strongly featured 
instruments of the album. In this 
Osbourne-inspired 
endeavor, 

Carlton once again succeeded; 
songs like “Take It Easy” and 
“House of Seven Swords” reveal 
the intense prettiness of her 
refined vocal range.

In her live performance at The 

Blind Pig this past Saturday night, 
the effortless beauty of Vanessa’s 
talents 
were 
revealed. 
The 

minimalist stylings of the music, a 
sound so streamlined it was almost 
tangible, matched the nominal 
objects that decorated the stage: It 
was nothing but a piano, Carlton’s 
violinist and scattered lit candles. 
Silence 
spread 
through 
the 

crowd when Vanessa interjected 
some light commentary into her 

relatively short, hourlong set. The 
fans kept their beguiled eyes on 
Carlton for the entirety of the set, 
while whispered, light hummings 
of lyric repetition was a constant 
underlying sound in the packed 
Blind Pig.

Acoustic 
versions 
of 
“A 

Thousand Miles” and “White 
Houses” 
were 
undeniably 

enchanting for the crowd of college 
kids who had grown up with 
these radio hits. Carlton jokingly 
offered up some context for each 
of the songs as the peeled eyes and 
whispered voices fell back into love 
with this early 2000s sensation.

Carlton could be considered 

lucky: Very few early popstar 
one-hit wonders tend to resurface 
successfully or without great 
difficulty. 
Surely, 
Carlton 

experienced this stereotypical 
plight in some form, but she 
seems to have arisen as a stronger 
artist because of it. After years 
of allowing the media to nurture 
some false image of her, Carlton 
has built herself up, once again, 
with the same building blocks 
that had always remained: talent, 
depth, beauty and a determined 
vision for one’s craft. What was 
once stolen has now been won 
back, to be nurtured and expand 
upon once again, with far fewer 
Dr. Scholl’s jokes this time around.

2-News

ACROSS

1 Adjust for

daylight saving
time, e.g.

6 Veggies in a

sack

11 Sphere in the

night skies

14 The first Mrs.

Trump

15 Plains dwelling
16 “Watch it!”
17 Badminton court

boundary

19 Minn. summer

hours

20 Bambi’s aunt
21 Heart
22 __ one’s nose

into: meddle

23 Trilogy with the

heroine Katniss
Everdeen

28 Ballroom moves
29 Bit of buckshot
30 Captain 

Picard’s
counselor

33 Eat
34 Imprecise

ordinal

36 GameCube, for

one

41 __ Friday’s:

restaurant chain

42 Fuel from a bog
43 Pretty pitcher
44 Youngster
46 Mosque official
49 Vehicles for

James Cagney

53 __ Major: Big

Dipper

54 Double-reed

woodwind

55 Here, in Juárez
57 Bloke’s

bathroom

58 It may straddle

neighboring
countries ... and,
in a different way,
what each of four
sets of puzzle
circles
graphically
depicts

62 Target of fall

shots

63 Snoring cause,

often

64 Disbursed
65 Labor Day mo.
66 Foppish

neckwear

67 Lightens up

DOWN

1 Word from the

bailiff

2 Happening
3 Comedian

Silverman

4 Ltr. holder
5 Meditative

Chinese
discipline

6 Outboard motor

areas

7 “Moby Dick” ship

co-owner

8 Longtime

newswire org.

9 Bear’s home

10 “Catch my drift?”
11 “You’ve got to be

kidding!”

12 Salvation Army

symbol

13 Memory units
18 Clever move
22 Friend
24 Prepare for

publishing

25 Grand-scale tale
26 Gambling town

near Carson City

27 Small valley
30 Explosive initials
31 Complicated

procedure

32 Course served in

a small crock

33 URL part
35 The Beatles’

“And I Love __”

37 Omar of “House”
38 Bygone

depilatory

39 Set of numbers

next to a contract
signature

40 Round before the

final

45 FedExCup org.
46 “That wore me

out!”

47 “Wuthering

Heights” setting

48 Not at all eager
49 Large bays
50 Bull rider’s venue
51 Roof edges
52 Public spectacle
56 Partner of sciences
58 Cry from a lamb
59 Black __: spy

doings

60 GOP org.
61 Hoppy brew, for

short

By C.C. Burnikel
©2015 Tribune Content Agency, LLC
11/17/15

11/17/15

ANSWER TO PREVIOUS PUZZLE:

RELEASE DATE– Tuesday, November 17, 2015

Los Angeles Times Daily Crossword Puzzle

Edited by Rich Norris and Joyce Nichols Lewis

xwordeditor@aol.com

Classifieds

Call: #734-418-4115
Email: dailydisplay@gmail.com

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SERVICES

6 — Tuesday, November 17, 2015
Arts
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com

ALBUM REVIEW
Cara’s strong debut

Hit single ‘Here’ 
highlights new 

album Know-It-All

By MELINA GLUSAC

Daily Arts Writer

The first time I Googled Ales-

sia Cara, I was shocked to see the 
year 1996 on my laptop screen. In 
addition to hav-
ing 
two 
first 

names, 
being 

Canadian 
and 

already scoring 
a sleeper hit in 
her maple-leafed 
homeland, Cara 
is only 19 years 
old. I say “only” 
because I am also 19, and like Cara, 
I’m straddling the wobbly bound-
ary between youth and adulthood, 
and sometimes I like to write 
about it. But unlike Cara, I can’t 
sing about it; I don’t have a voice 
like liquid silver, like silk hanging 
out the window on a cool, breezy 
night. She does, though. And if 
I gleaned anything from Know-
It-All, Ms. Cara’s excellent debut 
album, it’s that more people should 
be listening to her voice.

“Here” is the aforementioned 

smash, the second tune off the 
album and easily its best work. So 
far it has peaked at #20 in Canada 
and #13 in the U.S., and rightfully 
so: it toys with the (admittedly 
relatable) subject of not wanting 
to be at a party anymore, getting 
bored with the do-you-have-a-
boyfriend cajoles, all on top of 
piano-infused R&B sounds. We 
get the summit of Cara’s sardonic 
lyrics: “So holla at me I’ll be in the 
car when you’re done / I’m stand-
offish, don’t want what you’re 
offering / And I’m done talking / 
Awfully sad it had to be that way.” 
She sounds like a cynical Alicia 
Keys, spitting out smoky pleas 
and biting observations capped 
off with expert vibrato. It’s been 
a while since a track has captured 
the ennui of burned out youth so 
inventively, so well.

Know-It-All continues strongly, 

and “Four Pink Walls” and “Out-
laws” keep the energy alive. The 
latter is doo-wop done right — a 
modern tune through and through, 
with apt ’50s drive-in influences. 

It never crosses into hammy ter-
ritory, nor does it reek of pseudo-
feministic lyrics (cough, Meghan 
Trainor, cough), and Cara’s voice is 
potent enough to set it apart from 
most of the album’s other poppy 
songs. “Four Pink Walls” is just as 
great: as a funky, personal ode to 
dreams with chunks of piano and 
jazzy chord progressions, it sounds 
straight off Amy Winehouse’s 
Frank. Cara takes many genres for 
a walk on this compilation, and 
it’s an experiment conducted with 
caution and grace.

However, when you hit so many 

high notes, low ones are inevitable. 
Too many of Know-It-All’s songs 
fall into the rabbit hole of pop typi-
cality: “Overdose,” “I’m Yours,” 
“Wild Things” and “Scars To Your 
Beautiful” are the prime examples 
of this “basic” state of being. All 
four blend into each other with 
minimal offerings of distinguish-
ability. The verses are the sounding 
board for similar, less-than-grip-
ping lyrics, and the choruses fol-
low trite melodic lines. “Wild 
Things” mentions 808 drums, like 
so many other tunes of today. (A 
note: We can trace the zenith of 
what I’ve dubbed the “808 Plague” 
to Ke$ha’s 2010 sensation “Your 
Love Is My Drug,” where she says, 
“Do I make your heart beat like an 
808 drum?” After years of its pro-
lific mention in album titles and 
songs, I thought Ke$ha’s reference 
would mark its demise. But the 
808 Plague is still festering. Please 
contact your local physician if you 
feel it coming over you. We can end 
this together.)

So maybe it was my youth or my 

ennui or my aversion to the basic, 

but I found myself pining to click 
pause and play “Here” again a little 
too often while listening to Know-
It-All. Alas, plague-free unique-
ness is alluring.

Cara turns it around on a few 

shiny beacons, like “Stars.” A 
stripped-down yet robust piano 
ballad, “Stars” deals with “shed-
ding off the sun” while falling in 
love and accepting one another’s 
faults and potential simultane-
ously. Cara’s voice pierces through 
the track like an oh-so-gentle 
dagger, and the minimalist back-
ground gives her the confidence 
to push those million-dollar pipes 
even harder. Laced with some 
dissonant chords toward the end 
— something “Stone,” the album’s 
more lackadaisical ballad, is miss-
ing — “Stars” absolutely shines. 

It’s tricky to critique an artist 

with an indubitably stellar voice. 
Things like production, backing 
vocals and album instrumenta-
tion are easy to overlook when 
a voice like Cara’s is fighting for 
its life in the cruel realm of my 
19-year-old headphones. So even 
“Seventeen,” yet another basic 
tune, is hard to deny: it’s catchy, 
it’s typical, but it’s Cara. She’s 
singing about freezing time, about 
wanting to grow up but realizing 
that it’s not all it’s cracked up to 
be — and she’s doing it with that 
silvery voice of hers.

And then a few days later you 

find yourself at that drunk party, 
with all these people you don’t 
want to be with, listening to music 
you don’t really like, just yearning 
to be chilling with yourself and 
doing things that feed your soul. 
Like listening to Alessia Cara.

DEF JAM

“Anyway, here’s Wonderwall.”

B+

Know-It-All

Alessia Cara

Def Jam

LITERATURE COLUMN

My Maryland story
I 

had barely walked past my 
English professor’s door 
when I saw the map. Upon 

closer inspection, I noticed it 
was adorned with small, curlicue 
letters list-
ing titles of 
books within 
defined state 
borders.

This map 

is called “The 
United States 
of Books,” 
and when I 
couldn’t stop 
thinking 
about it and tried to find it online 
later, I found multiple variations 
of this list. There are maps that 
showed the most popular books 
set in their respective state, the 
book most frequently purchased 
in each state, and several that try 
to claim that one book can serve as 
a representative for an entire state.

I have mixed feelings about this 

claim. “Where are you from?” is 
often the first or second friendly 
question we get when meeting 
new people. (The other being the 
unremitting “What do you do?” 
or the collegiate translation of 
“What’s your major?”)

So to have literature intercede 

and do some of the work for us 
— essentially, assigning responsi-
bility for the identity of a state to 
a particular book — is a strange 
idea. I say this mostly because the 
book that allegedly represents my 
state is foreign to me.

I’m from Maryland, but I was 

born in Washington, D.C., about 
15 miles away from my house. 
I grew up my entire life in the 
house that my parents and dogs 
still occupy. In the suburbs of 
D.C., I had a very happy child-
hood, owing mostly to my parents, 
brother and grandmother who 
acted as a third parent, but also 
due in large part to my location. I 
had a backyard to run around and 
play in, I could walk safely to my 
friends’ houses, I could kayak on 
the Potomac River with my dad or 
bike the 16 miles to Georgetown 
with my best friend on the C&O 
Canal. My house is close enough 
to D.C. that I can easily get to 
the Lincoln Memorial or get the 
sushi tacos that Maryland lacks, 
but traffic isn’t as affected by the 
hassles of endless diplomatic and 
presidential motorcades the way it 
would be if I lived there.

It sounds like the best of both 

worlds, and it was. But the 18 
years I spent in Bethesda are not 
represented in the book that was 
chosen to symbolize my state. The 
Maryland book that is on the list 
on my English professor’s door 
is “The Accidental Tourist,” by 
Ann Tyler. I picked it up from the 
library on my way home that day, 
and it’s phenomenal. But I didn’t 
relate to it as a Marylander.

“The Accidental Tourist” is set 

in Baltimore, about an hour from 
Bethesda. But the novel doesn’t 
focus on its location or in any 
way make Baltimore come to life. 
“The Accidental Tourist” could 
be located anywhere, really. Loca-
tion isn’t important to this novel 
— it was a finalist for the Pulitzer 
Prize and won the National Book 
Award for fiction not because of 
the few times that it mentions that 
the characters live in Baltimore, 
but because of the narrative and 
compelling characters. Tyler’s 
books are distinctively American. 
As a reviewer highlighted when it 
came out, “(Tyler) has taken as her 
fictional territory that sprawling 
American landscape of the middle 
class.” “The Accidental Tourist” is 
a book that explores the complexi-
ties of the American family. But 
the next time someone asks me 
where I’m from, I couldn’t rely on 
“The Accidental Tourist” to tell 
my story of Maryland.

So I thought about what 

novel could. I found it in about 
10 seconds of racking my brain: 
“The Sisterhood of the Traveling 
Pants.”

When I picked up that familiar 

book again, my recollections of 
the four best friends of different 

body types that can magically fit 
into the same pair of jeans were 
spot on. In the first few pages, I 
realized how close the experi-
ences of these girls were to my 
experiences when I was 16 and 
desperately wanted to leave the 
idyllic childhood I described with 
joy earlier. I saw the common 
white lies of my friends to the 
ceaseless “Where are you from?” 
quandary in the response of 
Bridget, a Bethesda native, who 
casually replies, “I’m from Wash-
ington, D.C.” And as Carmen, 
another one of the narrators, 
says in the first few pages “It’s 
not enough to stay in Bethesda, 
Maryland, and hunker down in 
an air conditioned house.”

But the simultaneous boredom 

and pleasure of suburbia is not 
unique to Bethesda, or Maryland. 
The same location problems 
can be found in Jeffrey Eugen-
ides’s “The Virgin Suicides” and 
Jonathan Franzen’s “Freedom,” 
which are set in Michigan and 
Minnesota, respectively.

When the structure and ideals 

of a place is as easily reproducible 
as those of my hometown — good 
schools, competition over every-
thing imaginable, open spaces 
for kids to ride their bikes or get 
high — it makes that location, at 
least in a literary sense, standard 
and routine. For these books, nar-
rative takes enormous precedent 
over where the characters are. 
A suburban backdrop for a novel 
can often be put in any state.

The list of books that repre-

sent states should be looking for 
the strange and the uncanny 
found to represent each state. 
This is easier to do with states 
that can more easily embody 
particular ideals. On most lists, 
Hawaii is captured by “The 
Descendants.” “Gone with the 
Wind” is almost always chosen 
for Georgia. I’ll admit, I haven’t 
spent much time in these states 
and maybe that’s why I’m more 
willing to accept these asser-
tions. I love stories where the 
setting can become more of a 
character than a background. 
When I read that John Hughes 
described “Ferris Bueller’s Day 
Off” as his love letter to Chicago, 
I wanted to find something simi-
lar for the places I hold close to 
me, even when I’m hundreds of 
miles away.

I haven’t yet. I love “The Sis-

terhood of the Traveling Pants” 
— it makes me think of my past, 
complete with all the frustrations 
and beauty of suburbia. When I 
go back for my summers in this 
perilous place between teenage 
angst and adult realization, I 
can’t also go back to identifying 
with the story of the four teen-
agers who refuse to wash their 
jeans. I’m not afraid to ask for 
a better story from Maryland 
because I think that it can deliver. 
In the meantime, I’ll be waiting.

Lerner is trying to to fit 

into the traveling pants. To 

offer encouragement, e-mail 

rebler@umich.edu.

REBECCA

LERNER

CARLTON
From Page 1

