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In This Section

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Double Trouble Two instrumental giants play Nashville on the same night

 

 

In This Issue

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Bredesen’s Bunker Neighbors of governor’s mansion battling to stop first lady’s underground project

American Squirm Reese Witherspoon torture thriller is topical but typical

SUSPECT BEHAVIOR Mother and child reunion

Anatomy of a Murder The famous outlaw, the fawning outcast and an epic movie that’s as stylized as it is insane

WORDS OF THE WEEK

Refried Advice A lesson in Mexican Spanish etymology and more

Kenzie’s Choice Ben Affleck’s directorial debut leaves nothing but grave moral doubts—to its credit

Short Takes This week in local theaters

 

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by Jewly Hight

Interviewers would rather learn how Michaelson went from owner of a MySpace profile to getting her songs heard by millions of people on primetime television via Grey’s Anatomy, One Tree Hill, Kyle XY and Old Navy ads—and all without a label.

“Yeah it seems to be that that’s what people are more interested in, finding out how I got or how I’m getting where I’m going,” says the New York native. “I don’t think I’m there quite yet.”

The story begins with Michaelson receiving a MySpace message from a licensing company representative that seemed too good to be true (something along the lines of, “I’ve worked with Grey’s Anatomy. I think your stuff would be perfect”). “You get so many false promises that I never wanted to get my hopes too high,” she says. “A month later, ‘Breakable’ got on Grey’s Anatomy. [The licensing company has] a direct connection, and when you have a direct—oh God, I’m not going to tell you the name of the company, because I have in the past, and they’ve gotten inundated with musicians being like, ‘Get me on the show.’ ”

The appeal of a song like “Breakable”—with its fluttery crooning and lilting, piano-backed melody—is self-evident. Michaelson’s second album, Girls and Boys, is filled with songs that harbor their own subtle emotional tensions. The music soothes and woos with melodic hooks that float and settle gently, before the lyrics’ sharp edges begin to prick.

“I like having a song be kind of dark and depressing but put to happy, poppy melodies,” she says. “People instantly are drawn to more upbeat sounds. So they can always get into the sound of it and then they’re like, ‘Oh, the lyrics. That’s kind of depressing, but I like the song.’ ”

Even Michaelson’s breeziest-sounding song—an acoustic guitar-and-congas jazz-lite number titled “The Way I Am”—has barbs just below the surface. “It’s funny, because everyone’s like, ‘It’s such a feel-good song,’ ” she says. “It is a feel-good song. But the way I am...is not feel-good in my own opinion. Somebody takes you—though you know you’re all fucked up—and accepts you anyway. I feel like people don’t really understand the darker side of that sentiment, because I don’t really go into what I think I am.”

Michaelson’s musical background includes substantial classical and musical theater-related vocal training—a fact that’s evident in her rich, consistent vocal intonation—but she’s gradually let the flashiness of that singing approach fall by the wayside.

“I feel like I’ve shied away from very sing-songy, all about how great your voice sounds,” she says. “As I’m getting older, maybe it’s because I’m out of practice or because I have acid reflux—I don’t know what it is—but my vocals have changed. They’ve become a little more mature.

“I find that I’m drawn to artists whose vocals aren’t picture-perfect,” Michaelson continues. “I used to really strive to have that perfect run and that perfect note, but now I feel like it’s more about the words and what’s behind it and not so much how long can you hold that note out. All the musical theater and classical stuff, that got me to a certain point. But in getting to that point, I realized I don’t want to be there anymore.”