It’s no secret that lead single “Open” popped up on the web mysteriously last year without much of a disclaimer. The poignant vocals of Mike Milosh were featured over a bevy of progressive snaps and building chords, which ushered my ears into uncharted territory. Then the surrounding landscape becomes invigorated with a palpable electric steadiness at the hands of Robin Hannibal. The rest falls into place, kind of. 

The result is a modern and elegant creation, pushing the boundaries of how slow-burning a man can make his voice. And yes, he sounds like a woman for much of the appropriately titled “Woman.” Will the androgyny be a ladder upwards or downwards?

From the beginning, every word is veiled in a self-inflicted pain that almost makes me feel sorry for Milosh. It’s a reoccurring theme in almost every song on “Woman,” as more and more barriers seem to appear in the path of their delicate, fragmenting relationship.

Down-tempo and mostly barren, “Major Minor Love” is about as self-critical as you’d expect. It’s a great example of how low a man will sink to keep the one he loves around. But the result is underwhelming and frankly a little creepy. Tracks like this, while favored by many, become painful to listen to as Milosh slowly shreds any remnants of respect he has left.

The next track, “Hunger,” lithely bounces and grooves to reveal the tendencies of a man “tangled” and stuck in a repeating cycle of loneliness and wrong roads taken. The purpose for their hunger isn’t to sustain, but rather to swallow the lies that their relationship has forced them to eat as punishment, it seems. Also, the late-’80s electric groove line seems almost too ironic to exist. 

At most points, “Woman” is more soulful than seductive. But that’s not the case on “The Fall,” where Milosh pleads, “Make love to me/ One more time/ Before you go away/ Why can’t you stay?” Once again, an unmet outstretched arm is the focus of our troubles here.

It’s like Milosh is just going through the motions of trying to save his relationship. After about nine tracks of the same, I don’t think the topicality of the lyrics means much at all. Yeah, sure, he’s down and out and full of pain, but the tenderness of it all seems like oil in water. If “Woman” were a movie, I think I might find myself looking around the theater in embarrassment as I just casually listened to everything going down. Meanwhile, the surrounding female populace is all waterfalls. Wait, am I in a jazz club now? I’m confused. It’s just a weird situation. It’s not that it doesn’t make sense to me (because it does). This is just too much groove paired with too much emotion.

“Woman” is a beautifully tragic and an extremely well produced album that will be enjoyed by those with an ear for despair. But don’t get your hopes up too high, as “Woman,” even whilst standing on its tippy-toes, barely has enough teeth to chew its own meal.

3/5