Album Review: Alanis Morissette - Havoc And Bright Lights

It happens to all of us. We get older and we mellow out a bit. Havoc And Bright Lights is Alanis Morissette's first album in four years, and in that time she's gotten older, having married and had a baby.

Here's the thing: when you've got the voice of god (see Dogma kiddies) it's a shame to produce it in such a way as to be ordinary. Beautiful, but ordinary. Morissette is famous for her straight talking, almost aggressive lyrics that rage against injustices, and a sound that can make you want to punch the steering wheel in empathetic anger or reach through the speaker and hug the wounded child inside. She is capable of all of those things, but her latest release just doesn't go there.

The opener Guardian is clearly about baby Ever, and filled with touching emotional saccharine, but for some reason she doesn't tap into the primal protective mother instincts that could easily provide a source for that rage within. Similarly, the track Celebrity, about prostituting yourself just to be a VIP, prime for some vitriol, is just meek. Sounding Fleetwood Mac-style synthish and with Middle-Eastern percussion, it may be incredible live, but through the recording it lacks venom. You get the feeling she really doesn't have an opinion about fame whores, but thought she should write a song about them. Empathy echoes Vanessa Carlton or Alicia Keys' pop hooks, while 'Til You and Havoc illustrate the 'adult contemporary' feel of the entire album.

Her voice is still as distinctive as ever, with lyrics carrying personal and worthwhile messages, but there's just no contrasts or life within the recording. It's safe, and sadly, it's two steps away from Celine Dion.