Earlier I discussed my Project 2018, which is to get to know a new album every month. The album for this month, chosen at random from our complied list, is Aimee Mann’s “Mental Illness” from 2017.

The selection instantly came with a bonus: my friend James, who selected the album for this project, mailed me a physical copy on CD. Sure it’s available on streaming, but I like to see the album laying around, sparking my memory, keeping the thoughts churning. It decorates my stereo like a trophy letting visitors know that there is music in this home. I like to hold the insert in my hand. Read the lyrics. Ponder the fonts, the photography, the art work. I want to know who played the cello on track number six. Plus I love mail, so that made one day in our snowy January awesome.

Before this, I was only marginally aware of Aimee Mann. I knew she had quietly, consistently been rocking away for a long time, leaving a distinguished discography fueled by her talent as a lyricist. But even one song on the tip of my tongue? Shamefully no. Still however, this album is not what I was expecting from Aimee Mann.

This album is stark. It begins sparsely, with only a guitar and an ethereal voice reminiscent of an early Stevie Nicks. Upon first listening the first four tracks created an compartmentalized, confused mental space. The first track begins “Looking into the face of a Goose Snow Cone.” What am I supposed to do with that?! What does that mean? (Remember that the parameters of this project include the stipulation of no research before the first listening) The sleighbells create an enchanting, wintery atmosphere that soon turns to cabin fever where self doubt and distrust creep in. The second and third tracks are loveless waltzes that spin a floating dizziness.

A theme begins to emerge for the logical listener. Track three: You Never Loved Me. Five: Lies of Summer. Final: [My Heart Is a] Poor Judge. Relationship heartache, betrayal, and all of the dark emotions you internalize when something ends. All of the hindsight and what ifs you needlessly torture yourself with.

The album does not become a tedious folk singer/songwriter compilation. It grows in complexity with interesting arrangements, piano, and strings. The final two tracks are perhaps the most accessible. The second to last track offers our first taste of driving drums and bass. The final track starts like it could be the best Elton John piano rock ballad that never was recorded. It is soon joined by a soaring string section that provides the perfect countermelody like a heart breaking, thoughtful Ben Folds story piece. From me, that is highest praise.

I think I will be spending some more time with this album. I love a good sad song, and this album is filled with them. My favorite line comes from Track nine: Philly Sinks.

Well, you can put in your oar

But you’re hoping for more.

And if the rowing gets dull

Just knock a hole in the hull

and let ocean swallow you down.