Also this issue: The Sound and Di Furia Photon Band art scholar hears colors, sees sound. -Brian Howard Heller High Water A Philly expat talks about the end of Philadelphia as he knows it. -A.D. Amorosi Fads Will Tear Us Apart NYC's Interpol swims against the next wave. -John Vettese Ours -A.D. Amorosi Marianne Nowottny -Patrick Rapa Kool Keith -Elisa Ludwig Hail Social -Hillary Rea Har Mar Superstar -Brian Howard

December 5-11, 2002

musicpicks

Aimee Mann

Critic's darling and long-suffering poster-girl for record-label stupidity, Aimee Mann has hit a career stride unimaginable just a few years back. With her Academy Award-nominated song "Save Me," from the Magnolia soundtrack, a "acoustic vaudeville" tour with hubby Michael Penn, and the release of two acclaimed records on her own Superego Records, Mann's slugged her way out of career limbo with a vengeance. "I'm in a very good place," the 42-year-old singer-songwriter said recently by phone, adding with great understatement, "though I'm told you can't always tell that from my songs." No kidding, but no one makes depression sound quite as pretty as her, either.

At the core of Mann's appeal lies the same type of dichotomy that dogs her public persona -- a tension between her chilly, often cynical lyricism and the intense passion that frays the edges of her piercing delivery. Her new album, Lost in Space, continues the tradition, but with a focus on fractured psyches, not hearts. "In a general sense, it's about narcissism," Mann says. "About being cut off from other people and from your true self." Musically, Lost in Space is filled with swirling, mournful guitar lines, bracing arrangements, and the occasional ethereal space sound. But not even one bitter song about idiot record label execs. "Oh I'm past that," Mann chuckles. "Way, way past."

Sat., Dec. 7, 8 p.m., $32-$35, Tower Theater, 69th and Ludlow sts., Upper Darby, 215-336-2000.

—Nicole Pensiero