Jens Lekman obsesses over the everyday. "I saw on TV about this little kid/ Who had a pig for a pet," the singer/songwriter Swede announces near the end of Night Falls on Kortedala, his latest release for Secretly Canadian Records. "His mom had once been attacked by a dog/ So a pig was the closest thing he could get." The song, "Kanske Ar Jag Kar I Dig," isn't really about a boy and his pig, but rather, as Lekman reveals, a guy and his girl: "This has of course nothing to do with anything," he hastily confesses - "I just get so nervous when I'm talking to you."
Lekman continues in his impressive tradition of turning commonplace activities into life-changing events throughout Kortedala, his second full-length album (not counting 2005's Oh You're So Silent Jens, a collection of scattered EPs and singles). Love songs begin in the kitchen while slicing avocados and end in the emergency room with a severed index finger; breakup songs result in soon-to-be ex-lovers reaching for asthma inhalers. The album, named for Lekman's "depressing surburban hell" of a hometown, keeps things firmly in the routine - one of the most romantic tracks on the record, "Shirin," is about getting a haircut, even if it's one from an Iraqi emigrant in an unlicensed hair salon.
Far from dull, however, Lekman infuses his storytelling with vivid detail and sets it against a backdrop of vintage AM radio gold: Opening track "And I Remember Every Kiss" soars like a film score from the golden age of Hollywood; album closer "Friday Night at the Drive-In Bingo" could have been the theme music from Happy Days. The songs make extensive use of horns, strings and harp strums, sounds built from Lekman's remarkably cohesive grasp of sampling techniques - combined with occasional keyboards and programmed drums (a new addition to Lekman's playbook for this album) the result takes the schlock-pop of Tom Jones and Barry Manilow and connects it to the forward-looking sonic constructions of The Avalanches and DJ Shadow.
It feels wrong however, to lump Lekman in with those production geeks; though his arrangements on Kortedala are as immaculately crafted as ever, they're not the focus here: It's as a songwriter that Lekman really shines. Singing in English - notably not his native tongue - makes for moments that are often charmingly clunky; this is, after all, a man who once rhymed "chili" with "chilly." On "Sipping on the Sweet Nectar," he appears to fumble for a second, admitting that "Sometimes I almost regret it/ Like I regret my regrets," but the sheer absurdity of his statement is endearing enough to make up for it: Lekman comes off as totally aware of how goofy he can be, gracing every awkward lyric with a knowing wink.
Kortedala strikes its finest balance between the maladroit and the thoughtful on "A Postcard to Nina," a Lekman concert staple and arguably the album's crown jewel. Presumably based on a true story (or so he explains it in the live setting), the song has Lekman posing as a lesbian's boyfriend to please her ultra-religious father. Nina gives Jens little advice about what to expect, and consequently he has a miserable time of it, screwing up repeatedly when put on the spot: "Your father puts on my record/ He says, 'So tell me how you met her'/ 'Uh…'/ I get a little bit nervous and change the subject/ I put my hand on some metal object/ He jokes and tells me it's a lie detector." Lekman makes a captivating narrative from a completely unenviable situation, only putting up with it because, as he reveals, he'll "do anything for love." "Nina, I just want to check in," he later writes to her, "'Cause I think about you every second." To quote the next line in the song, however, would be to spoil the most gosh-wow charming thing Lekman has ever sung - I can only urge you to listen for yourself and prepare to be won over.
If that sounds like an excessively giddy endorsement, so be it; it's just darn hard not to be flat-out impressed by the songs of Kortedala. The album really delivers the complete package - sharp melodies, sparkling arrangements, winning lyrics and memorable hooks; sadness and excitement, sepia-toned nostalgia and knee-buckling joy plus near-impossible loads of charisma spread throughout the album's length. Even more consistently enjoyable than Oh You're So Silent Jens (even if it was for all intents and purposes a best-of disc), Night Falls on Kortedala makes, if nothing else, a very compelling argument for celebrating the mundane.
4.5 STARS
Now that you've read about it, listen to it. Visit www.jenslekman.com or www.myspace.com/thesongsofjens.
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