Sound Check — Geoff Carter: ‘Alone With Everybody’ tells hard truth — with strings

Friday, July 14, 2000 | 8:49 a.m.

Geoff Carter's music column appears Fridays. Reach him at carter@vegas.com

I'm a sucker for strings. Put strings on your pop record and I'll lavish it with praise, call it "the most significant release of the year," wax symphonic over its "emotional depth." I'm reminded a friend of mine who had a girlfriend who used to whisper her sweet nothings in her native French:

"For all I know, she's saying 'You are a pig, and you give me no pleasure,' " he said dreamily. "But who cares?"

Who cares, indeed? If Falco had put strings to "Rock Me Amadeus" I probably would've swooned over it.

It goes without saying that when Richard Ashcroft's former band, the Verve, released the gorgeous, near-baroque "Bitter Sweet Symphony" it was pretty much nolo contendre for me -- a haunting melody, a cool video and strings up the wazoo. The song instantly became the Most Significant Song of 1997 in my estimation; the adulation of many others, including Nike, soon followed.

Surprisingly, three years on, "Bitter Sweet Symphony" plays every bit the classic. Everyone who's ever worked for an Internet company knows that "you're a slave to the money / then you die," but to this day only Richard Ashcroft has successfully put the axiom to song.

Ashcroft's solo debut, "Alone With Everybody," continues to tell the hard truths -- with strings. His sweet tenor swims through melodies as immediately catchy as commercial jingles (are you listening, Nike?) and his lyrics are thick with wide-eyed optimism. "I got one short life / I want to spend it with you," he sings in "Money to Burn" -- and he means it. Guess love has found the bittersweet boy.

There's more truth to be told, and Ashcroft tells it all, even if it makes him seem a bit the hokey hippie. "A Song for the Lovers" opens "Alone" the same way "Bitter Sweet" opened The Verve's "Urban Hymns" -- with a gentle, yet urgent call to human concerns. Like "Bitter Sweet," it is exactly what its title claims to be.

"Brave New World" and "On a Beach" follow in the wake of "The Drugs Don't Work," the lovely ballad from "Urban Hymns": two episodes of lush psychedelia, rich with chiming guitars and layered vocals. And "C'mon People (We're Making It Now)" shimmers with energy and promise; it would be the best song to play on alt.rock radio since 1997 if released as a single. Please, Richard -- don't give this one away for a pair of sneakers.

Every song on "Alone with Everybody" soars, but Ashcroft saves the best for last. The country-tinged "Everybody" sings of abandonment and missed chances, yet builds promise across its plaintive yearnings -- as readily as "Bitter Sweet Symphony" kissed the listener even as it pulled the rug out from under.

It's some of the nicest sweet nothings I've ever heard in English. And well before "Everybody" fades away on a bed of harp and flutes, you know you're hearing another Ashcroft classic -- no strings attached.