Scarlett Johansson
Anywhere I Lay My Head

THE REVIEW

Scarlett Johansson is a bombshell. She has a photobook body (photo catalogs, which are all the rage in Japan, of lolitas and idols dressed or half-naked), she has good acting skills (just think of the beautiful "Lost In Translation" or the funny "Scoop"... although she acted in that shouting cacophony of "Island," a truly unwatchable film)... but what does music have to do with her? And especially what did Tom Waits do to deserve, an undisputed genius of musical art, a cover album like this? Maybe Scarlett released this album as a revolt "it's not true that pretty girls only make pop... I'm a stunning babe and play alternative rock! What more do you want?"...

...There are no words...

Scarlett, as a singer, is really pathetic: a voice that mimics the unattainable Nico resulting in dull and flawed, accompanied by top-notch music: chic and indie just right, on soap-and-water covers of Tom Waits (plus an unreleased track: "A Song For Jo"), with a high peroxide content.

Immediate dysentery. Allergy.

Yuck!

What the heck is this? Who the heck released this crap?

That's what I yelled as, in agony, as a true sound masochist, I subjected myself to listening to the initial triumphant instrumental "Fawn": a triumph of brazenness, which has nothing to do with the splendid fragment of Waits, enclosed in that little masterpiece that was "Alice" (2002).

I let it go. After all, it's only 2 minutes, hoping for something uplifting. But no: "Town With No Cheer" is unbearable: Johansson is a caricature of herself and even seems to attempt the deep voice of Mark Lanegan... but she didn't consider some inevitable consequences:

1- Maybe Scarlett forgot she is a woman

2- Since Mark Lanegan is praised by critics (and rightly so), it doesn't mean winning them over by playing the drunken cowgirl

3- Mark Lanegan is a whole different thing!

"Falling Down", in a duet with David Bowie, fortunately... is a completely different matter: finally a peak of quality that barely surpasses sufficiency, mainly thanks to the evergreen guest who, coincidentally, screams to cover the heavy and ignoble voice of the girl.

It doesn't last long, and it's a pity. One falls back into oblivion.

An endless limbo.

I turned off the stereo.

Trauma.

Dysentery.

Back to watching "Lost In Translation" and praying Waits doesn't hire someone to kill her...