Baby Bird
Ugly Beautiful

THE REVIEW

I love plunging headlong into memories, reliving my adolescence, unearthing from oblivion the emotions of that time.

Sometimes, a photograph would suffice, but nothing better than a song allows you to evoke past moments; nothing better than a song allows you to relive. I lie on the bed with headphones in my ears, and, with my gaze towards the balcony, I spend part of the afternoon painting my memories in the blue of the sky, the perfect scenario to project my emotions. The sky seen from my bed is so beautiful that it would be a shame to close my eyes.

Yet, I had the feeling that a song only made sense at a specific moment; listening to it today, hoping it could evoke new emotions related to my current state of mind, would be like decontextualizing a period of my life. I was wrong. And, with great amazement, I realized that my nostalgic, and in this case involuntary, rediscovery of the past had also satisfied my anxiety for a constant search for the new. I don't know how, but for a couple of days, a sunny tune was resonating in my head; I was a kid, that tune put me in a good mood but, for ten years, I always remembered it as the jingle from a mineral water commercial. Why did it come back to mind? I hummed ''You're Gorgeous'' in the shower, whistled it down the stairs. Intrigued, I decide to learn more about this Baby Bird, whose existence I barely remembered. And I discover that the British singer-songwriter has undertaken a rather singular artistic path.

While most artists, for market needs or merely artistic ones, venture into solo projects at the end or even during their group experience, Baby Bird (alias Stephen Jones) followed exactly the opposite path. After amassing, in years of strictly home recordings, enough material to produce three albums in the same year, in 1996 Jones unveiled, with the support of a real band, what for me was an authentic revelation: ''Ugly Beautiful'', a magnificent example of musical eclecticism that gathers some gems from his old productions (which by then had become collector's items) and new material. I never imagined I would be so struck by an album I decided to listen to only to satisfy my curiosity. I was bewildered, pleasantly confused; I had the awareness of holding a great record in my hands but couldn't find words to adequately describe it.

Despite a prophetic pseudonym, Jones is not exactly a nightingale, but he boasts a vocal depth that allows him to range from almost "crooner-like" singing to that of a shouter like the early Bono, managing to offer convincing interpretations in every track, seamlessly blending all his influences in a decidedly congenial manner, imparting that touch of ''personality'', typical of any charismatic and versatile artist. A case in point is the Smiths-like, bittersweet ''Goodnight'. And if the catchy ''You're Gorgeous'', considered as part of a trilogy including ''Candy Girl'' and ''July' (which revisit the same musical theme, with some variations), is certainly not the most ''romantic'' episode of the album, there are intense and heart-wrenching ballads like ''Dead Bird Sings'', ''Baby Bird', and especially ''Bad Shave'', a twilight folk serenade embellished with a delightful mandolin. ''Cornershop'', the melodic peak of the record, and the very long, delirious ''King Bing'', sustained by an obsessive groove and the vocal histrionics of a demonic Jones, are examples of how two polar opposite songs can get into your head in quick succession and with different effects. This formula seems to please Jones who, in the vaguely trip-hop experiments of ''Jesus Is My Girlfriend'', and the hallucinatory ''Atomic Soda'', revisits an insistent and assailing rhythmic register, reaching perfection in the highly successful ''Too Handsome To Be Homeless''.

The discovery of this pearl forgotten in the depths was serendipitous, and the treasure chest of memories proved to be more precious than ever.