Whether sheâs playing a toeless nihilist in The Big Lebowski or delivering sarcasm-laced lyrics throughout her nine-album solo catalog, Aimee Mann brings dry humor to everything she does. It came out in 1999, but Iâm still unsure if the song âSave Meâ is an honest plea for a savior or a sardonic rip at hyper-masculine hero complexes. By now itâs fair to call Mann an alt-rock legendâher career began with the 1980s new wave band âTil Tuesday, and it continues to expand with Marchâs Mental Illness. Itâs her first solo album since 2012âs Charmer, and trades buzzy guitar-pop for down-tempo folk.
On Mental Illness, Mann leans into the melancholy tendencies of her music, and as a result, is much more straightforward with her pain. Against acoustic guitar and the sweeping melodrama of orchestral strings, its 11 tracks illustrate how the simplest of plans can feel grandiose when youâre depressed. This begins with opening track âGoose Snow Cone,â which pairs the soft jingle of bells and acoustic guitar as she tells herself, âGotta keep it together when your friends come by.â Mannâs barely-there Virginia accent gives some muted twang to her lyrics, which often draw from the deep well of salt-of-the-earth aphorisms and musical clichĂ©s that she calls the âtumbleweed lexiconâ (âYou Never Loved Meâ).
The albumâs standout, âSimple Fix,â tracks the cyclical nature of entering and exiting periods of darkness with nervous piano spasms, shadowy harmonies, and the fatalistic whine of strings. This new record is merely the latest in Mannâs long line of achievements, but itâs a remarkable example of her abilities as a musicianâand in this particular instance, her reclaiming and mastering of the âsad folkâ stereotype with an expansive landscape of what Mental Illness looks like for her.