Isobel Campbell And Mark Lanegan: Sunday At Devil Dirt

The latest collaboration from Isobel Campbell and Mark

Lanegan—late of Belle And Sebastian and Screaming Trees,

respectively—offers a combination that's instantly striking, though not

exactly new: the gnarled male vocal and its glassy female foil. Perhaps

familiarity makes that blend so resonant (the opener's title, "Seafaring Song,"

nods to tradition), or maybe it's just an aural parlor trick, but accompanied

by lonesome plucked guitar, a smattering of strings, and upright bass as it is

here, the mix is undeniable. The question: Can these two sustain interest over

an entire album (their second together), or, like so many of their predecessors'

contributions, will Sunday At Devil Dirt become mere ambience for the two things

most commonly done in bed As the second song, "The Raven," comes in, featuring

Lanegan atop Campbell's wordless backdrop, it's clear that their chemistry not

only extends beyond the niceties of their voices intertwining, but overcomes

the potential for novelty inherent in their initial collaboration, 2006's Ballad

Of The Broken Seas.

When Lanegan leads, the combo truly sings, his

voice sounding inconceivably wizened against a backdrop of ghostly coos and

sighs from his partner, and instrumentation that goes one of two ways: spare

bluesiness, as on "Salvation," and bare-but-lush balladry, found on "Who Built

The Road." But Campbell's attentiveness to mood (and the force of her

counterpart's pipes) ultimately diminishes her spotlight; when she takes the

reins for "Shotgun Blues," her voice is thin, atmospheric wallpaper. Always a

gentleman, Lanegan does the heavy lifting—providing equal parts Tom Waits

pulp creepiness, Willie Nelson-like hard-earned truth, and Lee Hazlewood

come-on, allowing conductor-songwriter Campbell to nuance each song just enough

to avoid stagnation. And, for now, the bedroom.