A Girl Called Eddy

1	Tears All Over Town
2	Kathleen
3	Girls Can Really Tear You Up Inside
4	The Long Goodbye
5	Somebody Hurt You
6	People Use to Dream About the Future
7	Heartache
8	Life Thru The Same Lens
9	Did You See the Moon Tonight
10	Little Bird
11	Golden

Barnes & Noble

A gorgeous display of melody and melancholy, the debut from A Girl Called Eddy, a.k.a. New Jersey–born Anglophile Erin Moran, should woo fans of such thinking-gal's singers as Beth Orton, Dido, and Aimee Mann with its reflective, late-night vibe. But where Mann, for example, draws heavily on a Beatles and '70s power-pop influence, Moran looks to the more stylized sounds of Scott Walker, Burt Bacharach, and Dusty Springfield, whose soulful pipes certainly helped shape Moran's willowy, soul-baring delivery. Helping her transform her bedroom-window musings into lush mini-epics is Richard Hawley, who's collaborated with Britpop stars Pulp and who lends the disc glowing but understated arrangements rich with strings, horns, and nifty sounds like vibraphone and Hawaiian lap steel. Moran's topics span the usual gamut of love and loss, but she rarely sounds as heartbroken -- or effective -- as on "Kathleen," a meditative ode to her late mother that's underscored by a restrained arrangement including strings, harpsichord, horns, and tinkling glockenspiel. And while much of the disc follows through on this contemplative mood, Moran and Hawley know enough about album dynamics to shake things up a bit, as on the surprisingly effusive breakup song "The Long Goodbye," where jangling electric guitars finally jump to the fore in a more radio-friendly mix. A Girl Called Eddy is a real treat, and the welcome mat for an emerging and engaging talent. Lydia Vanderloo

All Music Guide

Three years after the sensational Tears All Over Town EP, Erin Moran (aka A Girl Called Eddy) issued her debut long-player in the United States via the maverick Epitaph subsidiary Anti. Produced with aplomb by Pulp's Richard Hawley and Colin Elliot, this self-titled outing is an exercise in melancholy, depth, intimacy, and pure pop sophistication. Moran's songwriting approach is unabashedly romantic; it's torchy yet sweet, and her love of songwriters from Scott Walker to Burt Bacharach to Brian Wilson to Jim Webb is everywhere evident. In addition, her voice is a dead cross between Chrissie Hynde's and Karen Carpenter's. Hawley and Elliot have a symbiotic empathy for Moran's method. While she holds down the piano chores, this pair play all manner of guitars, basses, and electric keyboards with Shez Sheridan and Andy Cook, and selectively employ string and horn sections where appropriate. She reprises two cuts from the previous offering in the devastating ballad "Heartache" (which quotes the piano intro to the Carpenters' "Close to You") and the aching "Girls Can Really Tear You Up Inside." The album opens with the blue-eyed soul-pop of "Tears All Over Town," with its ringing Rickenbacker guitars, swirling strings, and rich piano textures. It is followed by the genuinely sad, loss-drenched "Kathleen," written for Moran's late mother, with acoustic and electric guitars starkly winding around a skeletal string section; above it all Moran's voice haltingly expresses its grief. There is a big production number as well in "People Used to Dream About the Future," with its crashing waves of keyboards and strings and a bridge to die for. There's the jaunty cabaret pop of "Life Thru the Same Lens," the hushed, emotionally loaded "Did You See the Moon Tonight," and the heartbreak rock & roll of the album's closer, "Golden." In all, A Girl Called Eddy is a multi-textured, multi-dimensional journey into grand pop literacy; Moran's songs are examples of exquisite taste that is never cheeky or dishonest. On her album the heart speaks with grace, elegance, and force. Thom Jurek

New York Times

Does the world need another dusky-voiced retro chanteuse? When she's as good as Erin Moran... the answer is yes. Jon Pareles

Entertainment Weekly

Eddy could truly be what the world -- or the pop one, anyway -- needs now. (B) David Browne