After listening to the first song on the Paula Cole Band's Amen., I slowly began to revert into a childlike state. I curled up into fetal position; I stared straight ahead, mesmerized; I did not speak. By the fifth track, I had begun to squeal and coo like a newborn, not out of pleasure, mind you, but out of awe and disbelief. The album was aesthetically awful, but that was not what had sparked my regression into immaturity. I can always accept the fact that a record is bad, but what I can not comprehend is how any one person can be as pretentious, as utterly self-righteous, as Paula Cole. Her inept attempts to adopt African-American culture into her music are, in a word, pathetic, and she writes songs about topics that a successful recording artist could not possibly ever fully understand.

Furthermore, she petitions her audience with her staunch religious beliefs so many times that not only do they become lyrically tiring and trite, but they alienate her listeners by condemning them for not feeling the same way. It is one thing to musically express one's belief in a higher power, it is another thing altogether to blame others for not agreeing, and to elevate oneself to a godlike status by proclaiming religious sanctity. Cole's I'm-holier-than-thou attitude literally makes me sick. I feel I owe it to all USMV readers to further explain the evil which is Amen. So, here now is a list of each track on the album, followed by a short explanation of the track's faults:

I Believe In Love: Here, Paula Cole proudly proclaims that she "believes in love to be the center of all things." Not only has this cliched sentiment been conveyed in thousands of syrupy love songs in the past, but Cole has the gall to proclaim it over a thumping, pseudo-Curtis Mayfield beat. This song is like listening to Kathy Lee Gifford sing the theme from "Shaft."

Amen: On this track, the "godly" Ms. Cole systematically lists all the people she has deemed worth saving, all those who are worth an Amen. Now I can sleep tighter at night knowing that Paula Cole is on the job, ready to save OJ, Bill Clinton, Saddam Hussein and America when Armageddon destroys all the real evil in the world.

La Tonya: Paula Cole, a Rockport, Massachusetts native who has graduated from Berklee College of Music, has enjoyed great success, selling millions of copies of her first album, This Fire. Thus, what better person to write a depressing ballad about a sixteen year old child of the ghetto who has found the strength to hold on through her faith in God. Cole, as far as anyone knows, has never sold her body, has never lived in the ghetto and has never watched her baby brother smoke crack. Cole is not a woman who can write a song about this topic without belittling her subject. Brad Pitt would be better off writing a song about being ugly and unwanted.

Pearl: Once again, cliched lyrics about spiritual metamorphosis are sung over a blaxploitation beat. "I'm the grain of sand/Becoming the pearl." Give me a break.

Be Somebody: The lyrics of this song have all the depth of a commercial for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latterday Saints. One has to wonder, however, if Cole was in the frontlines, supporting that "outspoken man, leading sisters and brothas/picked himself up from hustling, drugs and gutters" whom she champions.

Rhythm of Life: Not only does Cole rap ineptly on this track, but she has the nerve to dedicate the song "to the critics and cynics who don't understand the lyrics." I may be a critic, but after a a few hours of work, I am damn sure I understand these lyrics, and I still don't like what I see.

Free: She wants to be free. Not only does Cole sing on this track, but she also credits herself for "fingersnaps." Hey, I'm not arguing here: she may be a pretentious, untalented songwriter, but she can snap a mean finger.

Suwannee Jo: This song is inspired by Zora Neale Hurston's Their Eyes Were Watching God. On her next album, she'll be singing a similar song inspired by How Stella Got Her Groove Back.

God Is Watching: One last chance for the relentless egotist to petition us with her religious purity. I consider myself a spiritual person, but I do not understand how someone so devoted to God could, at the same time, be so devoted to placing herself on His level.

Paula Cole has a pretty voice, and her backup band is not bad, but this girl needs a wake up call. Now. She brags about how she has transcended on to a higher spiritual plane, but until Paula Cole figures out who she really is, I'm afraid we are all going to have to suffer through unrelentingly pretentious albums like Amen.
Paula Cole Band

Amen.

Warner Brothers Records

reviewed by Matt Portenoy