Jennifer Marks

Yes, this reviewer has a weird fascination with well-produced albums of the young female singer-songwriter variety, the kind of records with soft vocals that break in just the right places, but with backing tracks polished to a hard-candy finish. Sometimes they are laughably abominable, like Jennifer Love Hewitt’s last disc. And sometimes they are quite swell, like this sunny pop record from New York-based Jennifer Marks. She wrote or co-wrote everything here, and she has a good sense for elegant and sweeping choruses (“Walk Away”) and memorable melodies (“Naked”). Production by various old pros (Brad Albetta, Billy Branigan, Mike Shipley, etc.) surges in all the right places. If you’ve been jonesing for a contemporary version of, say, early-1970s Carly Simon, this should satisfy you nicely.