Diana Darby

Fantasia Ball (Delmore Recording Society)

By Amber Drea
Published: August 3rd, 2003 | 5:21pm

Diana Darby's second album is similar to the performances at an open mic night: the delivery is timid, the guitar-playing is sloppy, and even if you can make out what the artist is saying, you are left with a feeling of indifference. Once in a while something may happen to catch your attention, but for the most part you are just waiting for it to be over. It's not good, it's not bad -- it's just boring. Darby sounds like Kristin Hersh on heavy sedatives or like Smog during Bill Callahan's more subdued songs. There's a '70s folkiness that reminds me of Joan Baez or Carly Simon.

This four-track recording is airy with lots of open space between the whispery vocals and the instrumentation, which consists mainly of guitar and occasionally a drum or cymbal and some cello. When singing these lullabies and half-spun fairy tales, Darby's voice often sounds as if it's on the verge of cracking. On "Summer," the most interesting composition on the album, layered guitar textures create a pulse of dissonant chords, and light "bah bah bahs" in the background contrast with the nostalgic longing of the song's melody. The closest Darby comes to rocking is on "My Own," a resentful examination of the inevitable circumstance of becoming like your mother. She ponders "What's the point in giving all your cigarettes away?" and advises "If it feels good, do it and don't worry / You can think about it when you're dead." Darby also claims that she does not know how to feel happy or pretty even though the person to whom she is singing thinks she should.

Despite the depressing nature of most of Darby's lyrics, Fantasia Ball seems like something one might listen to on a breezy summer night while sitting on the porch bench swing with one's shoes off, drinking iced tea, and listening to crickets chirp in the background.