There exists something both elusive and timeless in Christina Rosenvinge’s trim yet evocative songs, which is made manifest in the subtle complexity of her intricate and memorable arrangements. Her third full-length on Smells Like Records, Continental 62, finds Rosenvinge once again joined by Lee Ranaldo on guitar, and is held together by a potent rhythm section that includes masterful drumming by Steve Shelley. The title of the record refers to the flight between Madrid, Spain, and Newark, New Jersey — a flight frequented by the Spanish-Danish vocalist. The bulk of the record was in fact recorded in Madrid and then mastered in New York City, resulting in an album adorned with stylish and cosmopolitan overtones. In addition to Rosenvinge’s breathy and heavily accented vocals, Continental 62 exhibits a romantic European sensibility rife with florid melodicism and polished off with an American indie rock sheen.
Continental 62 begins in an impressively haunting manner with the stunning title cut. Driven by a spare, Schubertian piano phrase, the piece seizes the listener’s attention with its air of immediacy and candid simplicity. A melancholy, passionate cello melody from Raül Pinillas and a smattering of spooky glockenspiel accompaniment from Charlie Bautista help to solidify the track’s moody resonance. Rosenvinge effortlessly manages to impress with how deftly she integrates so much into her arrangements without undermining the underlying spartan nature of her songcraft. “Jelly,” for instance, features, along with Rosenvinge’s seductive vocals, little more than a few simple, jazz-based guitar figures, brushed drums, and some delicious yet sparse glockenspiel. Taken as a whole, however, the track comes off as extraordinarily powerful. Furthermore, Rosenvinge demonstrates the ability to wrest a great deal of emotion from the listener with the bossa-flavored “¿Quién Me Querra?,” another of the album’s highlights and one that calls to mind images of blue skies and summer sun as competently as anything imagined by Astrud Gilberto. “Tok Tok” showcases her more rollicking side with its caterwauling violin, menacing piano chords, and Shelley’s propulsive drumming, and bolsters the already varied and heterogeneous nature of Continental 62.
With a finale almost as dramatic as its introduction, Continental 62 closes with the tense and barely restrained “Nickel Song,” a track that makes effective use of Suso Sáiz’s classical Spanish guitar chords, which then give way to Ranaldo’s somewhat unsettling and psychedelia-inflected descending six-string leads. Absorbing and affecting, the piece is an inordinately mature ending to a splendidly crafted album. A strong recording that never ceases to grow on the listener despite repeated spins, Rosenvinge’s Continental 62 comes highly recommended.