|

RTÉ Entertainment
- "9"
With every year that has passed since the
release of Rice's 2002 solo debut 'O', the sense of expectation has grown
and so too has the doubt in some people's minds that he would spend the rest
of his career trying to live down that album.
But if the pressure was on, it never
sounds like it here. And talk about heavier and noisier songs has, with two
exceptions, proved to be just that: '9' picks up so seamlessly where 'O'
left off that it could be the second half of a double album.
It's only on 'Rootless Tree' and 'Me, My
Yoke and I' that the instruments take a pounding; elsewhere Rice and his
band mates do all the things that made people fall for them in the first
place - the beautiful trade-off vocals and the gentle guitars put to lyrics
that cut to the bone.
The sequencing of the songs sounds
perfect, but then, every track is strong enough that you could probably
re-arrange them any way you wanted and '9 Songs' would still sound as good.
As the year ends, two of the best
singer-songwriter albums have come from Irish artists: Rice and Fionn Regan.
Regan's debut explores more moods and that's something Rice should think
about in the future.
During the best moments here he shrinks
the space between artist and listener so that the songs become a kind of
conversation between people who know each other very well.
And like all the oldest friends, you hope
he won't leave it so long to get in touch the next time.
Harry Guerin, 4/5 
LA Times - "9"
November 5, 2006
Damien Rice
"9" (Heffa/Vector/Warner Bros)
Lofty ambitions of a wild Irish rose
THE final 15-plus minutes of Irishman Rice's second album is what seems to
be silence. Turn it up and it's actually a nearly inaudible ambient tone.
Pretentious? Sure. But also practical. After the preceding 52 minutes of
sometimes vertiginous swings between anger, tenderness, despair, joy, loving
embraces, enraged rejections, sketch-like understatement and purposeful
overkill, you'll need some time to just breathe.
The album (in stores Nov. 14) starts with a different kind of breath, the
gorgeous soprano of Rice's regular vocal partner, Lisa Hannigan, rather than
Rice himself. From there, Rice and his chamber-like band achieve Van
Morrison-Jeff Buckley expressiveness as he traverses the treacherous
contours of modern love with the deft, literary dynamics of an audacious
novel.
There are not as many revelations as on Rice's acclaimed 2002 debut, "O,"
but it still can be sonically thrilling.
He also extends his talent for turning the seemingly prosaic into the
starkly poetic: "Do you brush your teeth before you kiss?" he asks a
departed lover, a solitary piano shadowing the words. It's so involving that
by the time Hannigan's voice, solo again, trails out resignedly on "Sleep
Don't Weep," there is nothing left but to breathe.
— Steve Hochman, 3.5 
Amazon.com - "9"
Not quite as endearing as his raw and seductive 2002 debut, O, the second
full-length album by Irish troubadour Damien Rice finds him taking a more
slapdash approach to his lyrics and arrangements, with balmy tracks like
"Rootless Tree," "Coconut Skins," and "Me, My Yoke, and I" seemingly made up
and recorded on the spot. Strange then that it took so long for 9 to
actually arrive, with just a handful of odd collaborations (Tori Amos,
Herbie Hancock) and one promising benefit single ("Unplayed Piano") to hold
fans over during the four-year delay. Nothing here quite achieves the lush
poetry on display there, although Rice and his singing companion Lisa
Hannigan come close with the creepy opening track "9 Crimes" and the damaged
whisper-to-a-scream ballad, "Elephant."
--Aidin Vaziri 
Amazon.co.uk - "9"
Four years is a dreadfully long time to wait for an album from anyone, let
alone a man renowned for his fierce independence, who could no doubt make an
acoustic guitar weep merely by stepping into an adjoining room. But finally,
the long-awaited follow up to the quietly inventive and
universally-acclaimed O arrives. And those who have followed the evolution
in his live act since 2002 may be surprised to hear that there is such a
seamless transition between that album and 9. His sophomore record offers
affirmation rather than progression, but what a rewarding set it is
regardless; gradual, considered and accomplished. It's hard to contrast too
intently with past work when each song demands such focused immersion from
the listener. Full band pieces such as the perky and most conventional
"Rootless Tree", the rattled Jeff Buckley-esque riffing of "Me, My Yoke and
I" and the eventual explosive climax of the brilliant Radiohead style ballad
"Elephant" are noticeably cohesive, but his real strength remains alone with
his broken, weighty voice and soft, tentative steps down his piano keyboard.
"9 Crimes" and "Sleep Don't Weep", both enhanced by the angelic fortitude of
vocalist Lisa Hannigan, are immediate highlights. And "Accidental Babies" is
heartbeat-stealing in its lonely beauty, the kind of private counsel you
would happily wait years for.
--James Berry 
The Guardian - "9" - November 3 2006
A heartbreak album for those who weep along to vintage Radiohead and Leonard
Cohen rather than George Jones and Tammy Wynette, Damien Rice's 2002 debut,
titled 0, was multi-platinum balm for the newly dumped. His second album
finds him no longer trembling on the brink of romantic meltdown, but
wallowing in the deepest pit of despair. He quivers, moans and pleads in
obsessive contemplation of the darling departed in a self-dramatising
simulation of catharsis that wrings from his performances an ocean of
emotion when a drop of understated restraint would prove more telling.
Cellist Vyvienne Long and singer Lisa Hannigan again achingly upholster
Rice's ho-hum strums, and again the last track, Sleep Don't Weep, has an
old-hat trick ending. But Accidental Babies spotlights the essence of his
appeal: you don't write red-raw words like these unless you're for real.
Damien Rice is that rare beast, a lamb in ham's clothing.
-Mat Snow, 2/5 |