By
Sebastian Bullhorn
Geri Halliwell – Schizophonic
So a couple of days ago I found myself just a little bored, and not so little drunk, and I started rummaging through my treasure chest of gay-ass pop records in hopes to find something to brighten up my night.
Okay, that treasure chest is actually nothing but a pile of dust in the corner of the bottom shelf of my extremely well-assorted music collection. And I only looked through it searching for stuff I could sell to second-hand stores to avoid real work that you actually get paid for. That’s how I ended up with the work consisting of writing this, while still being broke as fuck once again.
I’m a real winner.
Anyway, I got to rediscover Geri Halliwell’s first solo album from 1999, so it’s all good. Do me a fucking favor now and at least pretend to enjoy.
Of course, the idea of admitting to voluntarily listening to a solo record of an ex-member of the Spice Girls seems funny to some of you reading this. Or silly. Or pathetic. Or all that at once. But I needs more than that to cause me any embarrassment. Your tense self-image has probably denied you access to the mostly sugar-coated, but strangely beautiful, and once in a while surprisingly mature, world of Ginger Spice.
Which is nothing to be ashamed of, really.
I used to be like that, too. I never caught a glimpse of the greatness of this album until that one day when I was half-asleep in the backseat of a car I hitched a ride in, carrying me closer to what I called home back then, in the dusk of a rather jading day. I had a portable CD player and access to a few albums. As I wasn’t in the mood for Paradise Lost, from back when they were actually heavy, or a Rachmaninoff concert, I decided to give “Schizophonic” a chance. And I didn’t regret it. I’ve rarely experienced such placidity.
But let’s face it: aside from giving a crestfallen individual the illusion of peace of mind for half an hour, the music itself is nothing special. It’s simple, average pop, but with some irresistible allure. A weird magic drenching every song on there.
Geri might call it “girl power”.
I call it “I’m so fucking hot for Geri Halliwell”.
That’s mostly what makes this album better than any stuff from her old band. Anybody with half a brain realizes that she was the Spice Girls. The pathetic four-piece post-Geri “Spice Girls” shouldn’t even be mentioned here, but it’s my serious concern that Geri Halliwell finally gets her due respect. Why do you think all the other girls’ solo ventures turned out to be completely useless? Not even Emma Bunton’s, a.k.a. Baby Spice’s, boob job generated much interest for her musical activities, which is a damn shame as that’s by far the most commendable effort to resurrect a career. Don’t get me wrong, the music still sucked but I have to give her credit for the tits. But Geri Halliwell doesn’t even stoop to that level. She’s class all the way. And you can hear that in her music. That’s what made the Ginger character so appealing. Deep-down you knew she wasn’t the skank she portrayed.
She was often labelled “the Spice Girl who couldn’t sing”, but that’s bullshit. Actually, she was the only one with a characteristic voice at all, which becomes obvious to anyone who takes the time to really listen to “Schizophonic”.
The first track, “Look At Me”, was her comeback song, released about one year after her departure from the band. It’s an upbeat song that lives off Geri’s slightly raspy, but always sexy, vocals. I’m not a big fan of wind instruments so this song is not necessarily one of my favorites, although some of the arrangements are really good. Definitely has a 60’s vibe to it. And I’m not talking about the “give-me-that-joint-Kumbaya-and-I’ll-choke-on-my-own-vomit-MyLord“ part of the 60’s here either.
Songs like “Lift Me Up”, which is the second track on the album, are just beautiful and innocent. If pop songs came with a hymen this one’s would be flawless. Listening to this, I can’t even begin to believe in the existence of any evil in the world. Evil is but a bad fleeting memory for 3 minutes and 52 seconds. Then, just when you fear the imminent return to reality, there’s “Walkaway” absorbing the shock for another 5 minutes. What a great verse. With just the right portion of melancholy to stay with you for the rest of the day, but not nearly enough to become depressing.
I recommend constantly picturing Geri, ardently singing this song in the nude, while listening to it. Otherwise you’re in danger of turning gay on the spot, due to the incredible sweetness of the song. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
Next up is one of the best tracks on the album, called “Mi Chico Latino”. A fiery beat, some flamenco guitar and Geri’s babbling in Spanish take you all the way to… wherever they play shit like that. Spain? The Caribbean? Fuck me if I know crap like that. I was busy gathering worthless knowledge about other stuff all my life. Like why Geri Halliwell feels the need to sing in Spanish. Well, it’s because of her mom. She’s an immigrant and now Miss Halliwell had to pay tribute to her roots or something.
Despite the song rousing suspicion about trying to replicate the success of Madonna’s “La Isla Bonita”, since there are quite a few parallels, it’s a dead on hit. And by the time Geri starts talking in Spanish again after the second chorus you’ll just want to bend her over and have your way with the horny Latina bitch. if not, then you probably didn’t listen to my advice during the last song, gaylord.
Next; another awesome song you wouldn’t necessarily expect from this artist. “Goodnight Kiss” offers some kind of jazz-pop with some decent guitar work and the best vocals I’ve ever heard from her. I never really got into jazz much, but I’ve always loved pop, rock or even classical music citing a little jazz here and there, like the guitars on this song. Geri might not have the greatest range, but her voice is the epitome of allurement.
“Bag It Up” is a rather typical Spice Girls song. Very catchy, danceable and it comes with sassy pseudo-feminist lyrics. Not bad. Not good either.
Next.
Track #7, “Sometime”, is more like it. A very beautiful and sanguine song. Geri sounds like an angel on this one. Albeit one that’s going to seduce you and get really naughty once you’ve fallen in love with the corny celestial schtick. I’d be more gentle now than during “Mi Chico Latino”, but my mind’s on making love to her just the same.
There’s one song on here that actually made me buy the album in the first place, because I heard it somewhere and couldn’t forget it for weeks. It’s called “Let Me Love You” and starts out with some strange Far-Eastern sounds. The verse and bridge are awesome, but the weak and slightly annoying chorus eventually ruins the song. It’s a pity. I almost would have let her love me at this point. Maybe even kiss me on our first date.
The two remaining songs aren’t all that great either. Maybe they hoped nobody would make it so far through the album so they put these gems at the end. “Someone’s Watching Over Me” is merely okay, but frankly I can’t blame anyone watching over Geri Halliwell. Who wouldn’t? I have voyeuristic tendencies like that myself. I wonder what she looks like asleep at night? Do you think she could use a stalker? The last two albums didn’t do that well, after all. Maybe she’s lonely. Like in that documentary about her. Didn’t really look like she was all that happy living in isolation. And I’d be more discreet than those fucking paparazzi chasing her too. I mean, I want to see her, not the other way around.
The beginning of “You’re In a Bubble” shows her laughing like she’s had a gallon of nasty Bourbon for breakfast. Wow, what a voice! I wonder if she could drink me under the table. And then I wonder if we could copulate on that table.
Fuck, I have to stop now. I’m in it for the music, dammit! Really!
The song itself is easily the worst one on the record. She’s rapping a little and well… it sucks.
Conclusion: "Schizophonic" is art pop, and I don’t get how that sound presented by that woman could ever flop. What can I say? The world sucks, obviously. And it’s full of fucking hypocrites, too, since that worthless piece-of-shit “Take That”-faggot Robbie Williams does pretty much the exact same thing, and is now considered a super star, and even worse – by some, even a fucking rock star!
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