Receive Weekly Email and Text Message Updates:
Sign up for latest info on concerts, dining, promotions and more!
Go!

Related Stories ...

Reader's Picks

Top Recommendations

A short list of Broward/Palm Beach's most popular hot spots.
user content provided by: LikeMe.net & Broward-Palm Beach New Times

National Features >

  • City Pages

    Michele Bachmann, Unmuzzled

    You don't need to read Sarah Palin's book to hear the ravings of a mad woman.

    By Matt Snyders

  • Miami New Times

    Pimp Daddy

    The rise and fall of a chubby sex-cult leader.

    By Natalie O'Neill

  • Riverfront Times

    Babe 'n' Arms

    Tom was a hot-tempered cross-dresser with a garage full of guns--and then he became Rachel.

    By Nicholas Phillips

  • Dallas Observer

    The Fight for Texas

    Rick Perry and Kay Bailey Hutchison are locked in a battle over the soul of the GOP. They're also running for governor.

    By Sam Merten

Allison Lee

Been Here Before (Self-released)

Share

  • rss

By Lee Zimmerman

Published on October 03, 2007 at 9:19am

At times, Jamaican-born singer Allison Lee's vocals barely rise above a whisper. Her voice is a hushed, waif-like instrument that betrays vulnerability and supreme confidence. That's an interesting juxtaposition for a singer so shy about her talents that until a few years ago, her coworkers at Miami's Jackson Memorial Hospital didn't know that the full-time anesthesiologist was also a part-time chanteuse. On her recently released debut disc, the aptly titled Been Here Before, Lee's songs work their way under the skin in such an infectious and seductive fashion, it's as if they've existed in some parallel universe and are only now finding their way into the collective consciousness. It's tempting to lock her style midway between the giddy celebration of Carole King and the soft reticence of Norah Jones, but there are strong hints of Aimee Mann, Jewel, and Sarah McLachlan. The title tune bodes well for the rest of the set. Gently lilting in its folk-like tapestry and deft wordplay, it relays a lovelorn tale about a girl who "Made them think she didn't care/She changed her men like underwear." That quiet, beguiling weave of melody and musing grows steadily more engaging, whether it's the remorseful tangle of "Never Stop Running," the meditative rumination of "Beat of My Heart" and "Love Taste," or the all but irrepressible "Backseat," which bears a frisky refrain "Why can't I get you tonight?/How can I make it right in the backseat of your car?" That's a tempting entreaty but no more caressing or compelling than this beautiful set as a whole. On "Beat of My Heart" she coos, "Do you believe in destiny? I do. I do." Given the confidence and craft she exudes here, there's ample reason for her to keep on believing.