Britta Phillips & Dean Wareham
L'Avventura
Jetset

Dean Wareham could always be counted on for a good cover tune.

In the late '80s and early '90s, Wareham's first band, Galaxie 500, created glorious remakes of Jonathan Richman's "Don't Let Our Youth Go to Waste," George Harrison's "Isn't It a Pity?" and Yoko Ono's "Listen, the Snow Is Falling," among others. After that band broke up, his next band, Luna, ably tackled tunes by Beat Happening, Serge Gainsbourg, Donovan, Wire and the Talking Heads.

Wareham continued adding to his rippin' repertoire of memorable remakes even as Luna began a slide into mediocrity and irrelevance with its 1997 album, Pup Tent. That year, Wareham and Claudia Silver, his wife at the time, dubbed themselves Cagney and Lacee and released Six Feet of Chain, an album of covers of songs by the likes of Lee Hazlewood, Gordon Lightfoot and others. Even Luna's worst album, 1999's The Days of Our Nights concluded with a down-tempo version of Guns 'n' Roses' "Sweet Child o' Mine" that ran circles around Wareham's own songs.

It's surprising, then, that as Luna begins to emerge from its creative funk (last year's Romantica was something of a return to form), Wareham and Luna bassist Britta Phillips have busted out with what would be the limpest, lamest collection of covers ever assembled if it wasn't for two forgettable Phillips songs and three Wareham originals, two of which sound like leftovers from the Romantica sessions.

If, as the saying goes, it's better to have tried and failed than not to have tried at all, Wareham and Phillips flop as mightily as possible. Virtually every song bears the gray stain of ennui. L'Avventura isn't so much lousy as the kind of album you can play on repeat for hours, yet not remember one song once it's finished, save for Wareham's amazing "Knives from Bavaria." But "Knives'" quirky percussion and half-whispered vocals by Phillips are buried near the end of the album, blunting the song's impact.

Other than "Knives'" brief glint, L'Avventura is suitable for playing in grocery stores, Starbucks and parties where you don't want anyone to complain about the music — because it goes unnoticed. It's as if someone made a mix CD of Mazzy Star's least memorable material. But unlike that beloved band's work, L'Avventura fails to boast a sexy chanteuse whose voice can melt steel. Phillips, who was truly outrageous when she fronted the cartoon band Jem and the Holograms, is no Hope Sandoval.

Bizarrely, Wareham and Phillips invite such comparisons, choosing for their dubious tribute "Hear the Wind Blow," a track by David Roback's pre-Mazzy band Opal. Not only does the Wareham/Phillips rendition (which, in fairness to Phillips, is sung by Wareham) fail even to capture the spirit of the Kendra Smith-sung original, it's so dull and uninspired it may in its own small way dim the chance for a reissue of Opal's masterful Early Recordings.

That's too bad because Roback has plenty to teach would-be romantic balladeers like Wareham and Phillips. Opal and Mazzy Star were notable for Roback's ability to weave delicate, soul-warming love-song/lullabyes. L'Avventura, however, just puts you to sleep.

— Eric Wittmershaus (ericw at flakmag dot com)