By Glenn Carreau
Indie-folk singer, songwriter and classical pianist Vienna Teng grows more versatile with each musical creation. Teng has released five albums since 2002 and gained a cult following across the United States and abroad. Her fourth album, “Inland Territory” (2009), is as much an experiment as it is a testament to her evolution as a musician. Teng uses evocative lyrics and inventive melodies to turn each song into its own poignant story. She writes about everything from reincarnation to human ignorance and emigration.
Teng is a classically trained pianist and many the album’s highlights reflect that. “Antebellum,” for example, is a wistful, melancholic reflection of tumultuous relationships, and Teng’s rolling piano playing is the grounding force for the song’s orchestral arrangements. The up-tempo “Radio,” a standout, is all erratic keyboard, synths and tense percussion as Teng contemplates the ease with which many people disregard the world’s problems. The lyrics address the unconcerned citizen (“Sing me a love song, dear / What good has the news ever done me?”) and the imperiled world (“Oh the flash then the silence / Shouldn’t there be screaming, praying, crying, anything at all? / Tell me where are the sirens / Fire’s getting closer but I’ve got to stay strong”). At times, “Radio” is hurried and panicked, and at others it’s lazy and indulgent. Stylistically, it isn’t what longtime listeners would expect, but that’s the beauty of it. Teng takes listeners somewhere new.
The musician sings an ode to her paternal grandmother on “Grandmother Song.” On the surface, the song is fun: At live shows, Teng encourages the audience to stomp, whoop, and supply the song’s “teenage rebellion.” But as the song’s wild and percussive melody gains levity, the words highlight the experiences of first-generation Asian-Americans trying to find acceptance. A single fiddle and stomping feet inspire rowdiness while Teng chants, “Oh girl, you’ve never known war/When they come in the night and knock on the door/You can go from the high life to dirty poor/And lose everything you knew.”
“In Another Life” weaves a jazzy, 1920s-era melody as Teng uses her expressive language to explore the concept of reincarnation. “As the lantern light guttered out/And the after damp swallowed us slowly/I gripped your and caught a glance of the next time ‘round,” she sings in the first verse, which was recorded in a supposedly haunted house on an out-of-tune piano. The authenticity of the sound gives “In Another Life” an extra kick, with the swinging beat turning a contemplative story about two souls’ journey across many lives into a catchy song. Teng’s answer to the constant immigration and border control debate within the United States was to craft a song inviting listeners into the shoes of strangers in a strange land. The result is “No Gringo,” a song with soft, mourning piano that builds into a battle cry. “Father says head down, we don’t want them finding you/Mother says practice now, all the words you know,” Teng sings, putting Americans in the position of immigrating to a new country. “No Gringo” inspires empathy and nostalgia for a dear, lost home.
Whether she’s capturing the dizzying, euphoric realization of new love in “Stray Italian Grayhound” or contemplating the trials of Saint Augustine with an uplifting blend of electric guitars, classical piano and choir bells in “Augustine,” Teng proves that she has a gift for changeability. She crafts her style around the story or mood she wishes to present. The result is an album that seems as though it shouldn’t gel but does—each unique piece of the story fits together in a colorful, multi-dimensional tapestry of human life. Emotional highs and lows, worldly perspectives, and ruminations on the past, present, and future: all that fits into twelve four-minute increments, and it’s a joy to experience.