Pitchfork

Back in 2006, an opera student from New York City named Rachel Zevita auditioned for "American Idol". Armed with a bright personality and even brighter hippie duds, she convincingly sang Jeff Buckley's "Eternal Life" and lite-soul classic "Get Here", along with some glass-shattering opera blasts. It was not your typical "Idol" try-out. At the end of the eclectic vocal exhibition, Simon Cowell asked her: "Who would you like to be?" If Shara Worden-- the opera-trained leader of New York City's My Brightest Diamond-- was a little younger and a lot more desperate for attention, she could've been that "Idol" oddity. Able to tackle everything from a drum 'n' bass version of "When Doves Cry" to a foot-stomping take on Nina Simone's "Be My Husband" to a karaoke-hustling "I Will Always Love You" with shocking ease live, Worden's voice is one of the most astounding in all of indie rock. But, after listening to her dark, impressionistic sophomore album and then watching her crack bassoon jokes and mimic Michael Jackson at a recent show, I'm left with the same question as Cowell: Who would Shara Worden like to be?

According to MBD's head-snapping debut, Bring Me the Workhorse, the singer-songwriter-arranger-musical omnivore wanted to be the female Jeff Buckley with a more pronounced perfectionist bent and without sex. She brooded about unspeakable terribleness, dead bugs, talking dragonflies and glue factory-bound horses with the seriousness of a ghostly naturalist. Even more, she turned what should've been an overreaching neo-transcendental nightmare into something even the most protective Buckley-phile would swoon over. Worden's heady, music school talents were apparent but not overbearing and she tempered her flower child side with considerable menace. The first track on A Thousand Shark's Teeth, "Inside a Boy", continues with this winning formula. The rest of the album does not.

Originally conceived as a record full of string quartet pieces, Shark's Teeth was always bound to be a riskier affair than the more straightforward Workhorse. Though the strings-only mandate fell by the wayside somewhere along the LP's six-year gestation, its Debussy-inspired impressionistic flourishes remain. Songs often sidestep repetitive structures in favor of more meandering paths. Woodwinds and strings follow elaborate charts. These more mannered experiments start off curiously pleasing.

"Ice and the Storm" quickly rebukes the infatuation of "Inside a Boy" as it chronicles the quivering finale of a relationship with human nature intact: "I want a storm to blow it out/ I want to shake myself and turn my heart inside out," wails Worden, while all sorts of harps, choirs and skittering snares turn her wants into realities. "If I Were Queen", meanwhile, lovingly mixes the fantastical with the mundane. Over delicate strings, Worden uses her hypothetical royalty to bring a distant loved one closer just so they can "collect things and argue where to put them" together. The playful "Apples" somehow makes folding clothes sexy, and album centerpiece "From the Top of the World" is the most exquisite thing on the disc, its celestial marriage vows working in perfect tandem with an immaculate symphony underneath. The latter half of the record quickly falls into a mid tempo malaise, though, with Worden's ethereal references to the heavens growing staler with each overly precious arrangement. The first part of the nearly seven minute "To Pluto's Moon" sounds like a sub par tribute to Björk's insular masterpiece Vespertine, while the second part veers dangerously close to trip-hop wallpaper. The indulgences begin to overwhelm and, by the end of the album, Worden's fantastical charm turns itself inside out. It's too posed for its own good.

Frustratingly, what should be the album's best song isn't on the album. A recent live favorite, "The Gentlest Gentleman" is available only as a bonus track on iTunes (it's also currently streaming for free on MBD's site). Thematically, the exclusion makes sense; "Gentleman" is a stunningly simple ukulele ditty that goes down easy after Shark's Teeth's orchestral intricacies. It's also the most direct My Brightest Diamond song to date, with Worden saying goodbye to a loved one with understated grace. "If this is to be the end well, hey, that's it," she shrugs, resigned but resilient. A creative chameleon with endless wells of technical skill, Worden stuffs Shark's Teeth with studied know-how. "Gentleman" bypasses such careful intelligence-- it gives the singer away more than a thousand of violins ever could.