Never, Again

Anna Waronker's California Fade

by M.J. Fine

Music was a birthright, not a career choice, for Anna Waronker. Check the family tree: Her grandfather founded Liberty Records, her dad ran Warner Bros. and her mom sang in 1965's Beach Blanket Bingo. Her brother's played with Beck and R.E.M., her husband's in Redd Kross and her sister-in-law's in the Go-Go's.

Waronker's best known for fronting That Dog in the '90s, but she's had a hand in a lot of projects since then, including a musical about Linda Lovelace. Still, she took almost a decade to follow up her first solo album. It was worth the wait.

California Fade has the effortless sound of a pro who knows exactly who she is and how to present herself. Every guitar riff enters at the right second, every piano melody is direct and every violin string is in its place — and they all act as a frame for Waronker's girlish voice and confiding lyrics. If you're wondering what she's been up to since 2002's Anna by Anna Waronker, you'll find the answer in her songs. Marriage and motherhood crop up in "Beautiful Life" and "First Time in My Life," but "Leaving Home" and "Scared" suggest something more like agoraphobia. Those glimpses of darkness act as a counterweight to the bright white of the album's abundant angelic choruses, just as the pouty, punky "I Don't Wanna" provides a welcome respite from all the luscious lushness.

And that's the closest you'll get to the glorious mess that was That Dog. Totally Crushed Out!, the band's 1995 second album, has its share of heavenly harmonies — Waronker's voice warps and weaves well with those of Petra and Rachel Haden — but you can't say that anything's in the right place. Take "Lip Gloss," which sounds like The Vaselines' "Molly's Lips" run through a tangle of frayed cords and a thick coat of viscous goop. Or "He's Kissing Christian," a Veruca Salt sound-alike that suddenly breaks into a violin solo.

The disc's not without its charms, but the mix-and-match swatches of acoustic guitars and jarring feedback mark it as a mid-'90s relic. Then, as now, Waronker's music is a dead-on reflection of a certain kind of L.A. woman of a certain time.

(m_fine@citypaper.net)