I was tempted to not actually listen to Celine Dion's "A New Day Has Come" in order to write this review. Really, really tempted.
But I'm a semi-intrepid reporter, and that kind of gross negligence would have seriously damaged my credibility as a writer, if anyone noticed or cared. So I listened to the whole thing exactly once, except for the time I accidentally turned off the CD player 10 seconds into the first song. I listened to that one from the top one more time.
To make a short story even shorter, "A New Day Has Come" sounds exactly like what you would expect it to sound like. The big event in most of the songs is the key change/repeat chorus. Dion also proves my theory: the more famous you are, the less you actually have to sing on the chorus.
The biggest surprise is the complete lack of Diane Warren references in the credits. Apparently, she didn't write a single song on the album, though Corey Hart did. Go figure.
The focus is on Dion's singular voice, which is, as we all know, quite singular. The woman has incredible range and skill, only occasionally characterized by an oddly affected, nasal twinge, which I guess is supposed to be her emotive trademark. Whatev. I like it.
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Unfortunately, as Dorothy Parker once said of a Katharine Hepburn performance, "She runs the gamut of emotions from A to B." Subtlety is not exactly Dion's forte. She makes it pretty easy for her listeners, actually. Breathy = sad. Open-throated vibrato = happy.
It's at this point in the article, where I know most readers have dropped their eyes to more interesting reviews (this one is at the top, mainly, because I can put it there. I have that kind of power. Also I can give it an intriguing and intentionally misleading headline to sucker the reader into at least the first few paragraphs, much like the cruelly deceptive previews for "Vanilla Sky"), when I confess that I actually own not one, not two, but three Celine Dion albums. I used to be kind of a, what do you call it, a fan.
Then, one fateful day perusing the New York Times'Arts section, I found myself reading a classical music opinion piece. I can't remember why, and it's not important. Anyway, the writer compared fans of a particular composer (name forgotten, also not important) to fans of Celine Dion. Basically, he called us lazy.
I was insulted for about three seconds, and then I realized he was right. To be fair, my appreciation for Dion was already waning, but this provided the decisive blow. I happily joined the ranks of the cynical music listener, for whom a pretty voice wasn't enough.
"But," you ask, "isn't this article supposed to be a review of 'A New Day Has Come'?" Well, all apologies. I'm just trying to be elliptical in the grand tradition of weary music critics and lyricists everywhere, where circumvention might be confused with genius. And anyway, I thought I paid my dues when I wrote a sincere review of Kylie Minogue's "Fever."
Speaking of the New York Times, there's an article in this week's magazine about the journey of a calf to steakhood. Did you know they get fed feathers, pig and fish protein and chicken manure? Gross.
I'm guessing Celine Dion doesn't eat much beef, and so doesn't have to worry about cattle fattening. (Nice save, I know.) Most of what makes her impressive as a performer is the incongruity of that rotund voice coming from such a bony little frame.
Unfortunately, you don't get the visual effect when you listen to the album. You do, however, get two versions of the first single. That's just uncalled for. So is the fold-out collage of pictures of Dion with baby and creepy old man/manager/husband Ren
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