9

1	9 Crimes 3:39
2	The Animals Were Gone 5:41
3	Elephant 5:57
4	Rootless Tree 4:22
5	Dogs 4:10
6	Coconut Skins 3:45
7	Me, My Yoke & I 5:57
8	Grey Room 5:43
9	Accidental Babies 6:33
10	Sleep Don't Weep 21:56

Barnes & Noble

This Irish singer-songwriter connected with scores of heartbroken kindred spirits with his debut album, O, but that notch of commercial success didn't turn him into a little ray of sunshine, judging by the aggrieved and pleading tones of this unfailingly gripping follow-up. No typical sad-sack balladeer, Rice plumbs his emotional depths at their most raw -- borrowing bits from precursors as varied as Tim Buckley and Thom Yorke but steering a unique musical path that's one part folk troubadour-dom and one part bedsit art-rock. While 9 doesn't differ drastically from Rice's debut, it does find him chasing some of his more ethereal muses -- and reeling them in with great alacrity on songs like the swelling, cello-laced plaint "Elephant" and the swirling, majestically orchestrated "The Animals Were Gone." Rice waxes introspective for much of 9, his fragile tenor skating over acoustic strumming with grace befitting a figure skater, but he's more willing to grab his listeners by the throat this time around -- as borne out by the PJ Harvey-like distortion-fest "Me, My Yoke and I." Harmony vocalist Lisa Hannigan makes a return appearance here, entwining herself with Rice with equal parts subtlety and razor-sharp emotion (the latter best evinced on the quavery-but-powerful "9 Crimes"). Her presence brings out the best in Rice, but he doesn't really need all that much help in winning hearts and minds -- especially those that bear more than their share of scars. David Sprague

All Music Guide

In 2003, Irish singer/songwriter Damien Rice wooed listeners with his debut, O, a collection of songs that displayed his (and counterpart Lisa Hannigan's) poignant yet interesting and intelligent vocals over quiet guitars and strings. On O, Rice was able to come off as sensitive and emotional without seeming sappy or cheesy, a difficult balance to attain, and certainly an impressive accomplishment. He was also able to write simple, pretty songs that still managed to have a voice and style of their own, and stick out from the rest of the acoustic guitar folk-pop. Needless to say, because of all this, he definitely put some pressure on himself for what he would present on his next release. What he turned out, 9, unfortunately shows signs of a sophomore slump. There are still some great tracks on it -- the stellar "The Animals Were Gone," the Dylan-esque "Coconut Skins" -- and to give him credit, Rice ventures into other genres, using a piano more frequently and even an electric guitar once or twice ("Me, My Yoke & I" is a rock song, no two ways about it) along with his usual timid acoustic accompanied by orchestral strings, but where before he was able to write love songs that didn't come across as clichéd or affected, on 9 (which, incidentally, has ten tracks) he seems so aware of the danger of coming off as trite that he tries too hard to overcome it, and ends up with something that seems very forced. For the most part his melodies -- excluding the aforementioned pieces -- are nothing more than unmemorably nice, but when coupled with hooks like "The girl who does yoga/When we come over" (from "Dogs") and "Does he drive you wild?/Or just mildly free?" (from "Accidental Babies") they become memorably painful, which takes away from what's actually great about 9: namely, the musical arrangements and Rice's voice (Hannigan, though she begins and ends the album, is hardly present), whose emotion ranges from dejected apathy to anger and is always pretty believable. 9 is by no means a failure, or even bad, but it dulls in comparison to what Rice can really produce, which makes it disappointing overall. Marisa Brown