There’s a lot happening on Cesar Spencer‘s debut album, Get Out into Yourself.
For one thing, the influences abound. Spencer, an Englishman, was born in Peru, also has Swedish roots, and now lives most of the time in France. I think he speaks at least four languages. Meanwhile, I’m still trying to learn French and stuttering through English half the time. As a result of his multi-cultural upbringing, Spencer’s album combines a lot of styles ranging from surf rock to torch songs, and he especially shows off his love of French music (Spencer calls the album “…a love letter to France”) from the 1960s through the 1980s by collaborating with famous French musicians on the record. The mix of influences and styles is one he pulls off with ease. I don’t know how he kept track of all of it, let alone made it sound effortless.
“Hail Caesar,” with guitar assists by French rock icons Gilles Tandy and Jean Felzine, launches the album with a wild surf guitar rocker before taking a turn down a dark cobblestone road in Angers, France for “Get Out into the Pigs” – which reminds me a lot of some of Julian Cope‘s work with Spencer’s vocal style and his rumination on things past that linger in his memory.
“Isn’t That What Jimi Said” is both a lovely look back on Spencer’s childhood days in Sweden (“Sometimes the breadth of my emotion’s not covered.”) and Jimi Hendrix‘s influence on him (and everyone else, really). As if Spencer wasn’t cool enough, the next thing you know he’s singing a duet, “When I Whisper in Your Ear,” with singer, actress, and former “Miss Tahiti,” Mareva Galenter. The two of them team up for a sultry, and somewhat spooky, song that even includes siren-like sounds from opera star Aurélie Ligerot.
The thick bass on “Jane Loves the Highway” will have you tearing away from the curb as you leave the bank in a hurry with a lovely lady in the back seat holding a heavy bag and a handgun. “Everything I ever did was bad,” he says on “Requiem,” making me wonder if he and Jane are to regret their roadtrip. It has a bit of a 1960s R&B girl group sound to it (particularly in the drum beat) that’s a nice touch. “Cult of Personality” is not a cover of Living Colour‘s classic hit (although it would be interesting to hear Spencer do this). It’s rather a song of hope (“There’s an angel passing over you.”) hidden among somber piano chords and lonely western guitars.
The uplifting messages, and his passion for so many different types of music, continue on “Broken By the Song,” with Spencer telling us, “You can be beautiful…There will come a day.” Things can always turn around and change. Sorrow, like joy, will pass away like everything else. “Waiting for Sorrow,” his first single from the album, features an intro from French pop icon Jacqueline Taïeb and has Spencer’s boldest vocals on the record. I mean, he absolutely belts the chorus and bounces it off the back of the concert hall to lodge deep in your chest, and the bright, jangling guitar riffs only help it settle there.
The title track has slithering snake-like guitar and percussion and Spencer’s witty lyrics (and David Vanian-like vocals) about his complicated relationship with an ex-lover, and perhaps even with England. The way the album fades out with sparkling synths on “Knew That One Day” is a neat way to send us out on a levitating note.
The album is multi-layered, like Spencer himself, and I suspect will reveal more of itself with multiple listens. Vous devriez l’entendre.
Gardez votre esprit ouvert.
[Grâce à Caesar!]