Recordings
Maggie Rogers’ personality blurred by bombast on debut
Pharrell Williams could think of no higher praise when he compared Maggie Rogers to a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup at a college class in 2016. The viral video of Williams getting slack-jawed upon hearing the demo of Rogers’ “Alaska” instantly made her an artist to watch.
The now-24-year-old Rogers, to her credit, took her time in putting together her debut album, “Heard It in a Past Life” (Capitol), but the music under any circumstances would be hard-pressed to match the high, perhaps unreasonable, expectations created by the “Alaska”-Pharrell-YouTube trifecta.
“Alaska” not only anchors the album, it remains undeniable, a dollop of peanut butter-and-chocolate bliss in a vat of vanilla. The finger snaps that bring it gently into focus, the drum that kicks in at the top of the chorus to effortlessly swing the song off the couch and onto the dancefloor — it feels both understated and uplifting.
Its stripped-down mix of singer-songwriter introspection and club-friendly beats should have provided a template for the rest of the album, but “Heard It in a Past Life” instead smooths out her quirks in a play for middle-of-the-road pop appeal. Producer Greg Kurstin, who has worked with everyone from Adele to Paul McCartney, is a gifted multi-instrumentalist, but he’s all about amplifying hooks and adding decorative touches, even when they’re unnecessary.
It plays like a story line from the 20th century music business: Young artist gets “discovered” with quirky demo that shows not only promise but genuine personality, then is signed to a major label and “groomed” for mainstream success by being paired with producers who specialize in the type of hooky, soft-serve blandness that commercial radio craves. That model remains a powerful marketing tool for multimedia celebrities. Rogers, on the other hand, has a chance to be a career artist, but she’s not the only one doing the steering on her debut album.
Rogers is listed as co-producer throughout, but her distinctiveness only comes through when Kurstin and some of his other high-profile production accomplices (Kid Harpoon, Ricky Reed) take the day off. “Past Life” is the sound of a young woman coming to terms with a sudden shift in her life, an unknown suddenly turned into a public figure, grappling with the demands of what comes next.
“On + Off” wisely builds on the elements that made “Alaska” so distinctive, as Rogers blends a bubbling groove with a pensive narrative about the need for stability in an increasingly tangled life.
In contrast, Kurstin — with Rogers listed as a co-conspirator — swamps many of the remaining tracks in virtual choirs of wordless backing vocals and squiggling, squirming keyboard and synthesizer textures. Many are designed as arena-pop anthems. These tracks — “Light On,” “Retrograde,” “Burning” — value size over substance, big but empty exercises in bombast.
The closing “Back in my Body” doubles down on that impulse. It blasts an army of drums, a guitar solo and more disembodied choir voices into the heavens, while leaving “Alaska” as just a speck on the horizon.
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