Album Reviews

At a party the other day, I heard a guy complaining about the sad state of rock’n’roll, pop, or whatever you want to call it. “Where are today’s Beatles,” he demanded to know. “Listen to the crap on the radio,” he went on. I tried to remind him that aside from the odd ‘60’s cultural inversion that made what was good, popular, (Beatles, Stones, Byrds, Motown, etc.), much of what was good was not popular (Dylan for instance), and that by the end of the decade what we consider “popular,” (Hendrix, Clapton, Cream, Leonard Cohen, Nick Drake, etc.) were essentially “underground” acts, way outside of the mainstream “Top 40.”

I told him that today, there’s another “underground,” not connected with J-Lo, Mariah and the rest of that stuff, where compelling, worthwhile music can be found. The problem is tapping that underground vein. You have to look for it, or find a music guru to lead you to it. I go looking—it’s my job—and some of it is delivered on my doorstep, courtesy of the some of the more supportive and respectful labels. I also am fortunate to have a 20 year old godson who searches today as I did in the ‘60s, and is tapped into a network of music lovers with taste and sensitivity.

I asked that guy at the party if he liked Neil Young’s Harvest. “Of course,” he relied, testily. “Well then, “ I told him, “do yourself a favor and pick up Cat Power’s latest, You Are Free. The analogy was very rough, but Chan (pronounced “Shawn”) Marshall’s (A/K/A “Cat Power) introspective, sensitive sensibility is not unlike Neil Young’s (or more to the point, Joni Mitchell’s), then and probably now. On this, her latest album, and her first since 1998’s Moon Pix (Matador Ole-286-1) to include original songs, Marshall exhibits a finely hewn folk/traditional sensibility but thoroughly modernized for contemporary ears. And if a few of the 14 songs don’t quite make it, enough here is worthy of your attention.

In front of arrangements that are exquisitely and deceptively simple, and singing in a voice that is equally so, Marshall communicates core feelings and beliefs with uncommon clarity and passion. She is a master at expressing melancholy and regret, and her confessional abilities are on a par with the most effective artists from the 1960’s, though her style is, of necessity, very different.

There’s not a song on this compactly written and produced record that would have a chance of being heard on Clear Channel’s version of “radio entertainment,” or, for that matter, would any of it be of any interest to consumers of mass taste product. But so what?

Chances are your first listen may be equally unsatisfying as Marshall’s wistful delivery could easily fly under your musical radar screen, as might the brilliant but spare arrangements. Listening isn’t difficult—it’s not as if she’s making ugly or shrill music, or trying to be confrontational.

If it took you a long time to get into P.J. Harvey, you won’t have that problem here. Quite the opposite in fact. If you’re looking for a familiar guidepost, start with “Good Woman,” the third track, which will immediately remind Cowboy Junkie fans of something from Trinity Sessions (it’s already 15 years old, folks), though Chan’s singing is less about creating an interesting sonic effect, than it is about communicating raw, visceral emotions. Backed by Dirty Three’s violin player Warren Ellis, the song may drive you to easy tears.

The backings veer from simple guitar lines augmented by David Campell’s evocative, sympathetic string arrangements, to stripped down, rhythmically arresting drum/guitar based rock fare. There are guest appearances by “E.V.” Eddie Vedder and “Dave” (Grohl), among others, but it’s not exactly advertised.

Marshall’s lyrics, both cryptic and in-your-face direct, deal with loving, leaving and obsessions and addictions of all sorts. In “Good Woman,” she delves into love, addiction, heartbreak and regret, with unusual tenderness and compassion: “ I want to be a good woman/And I want, for you to be a good man/This is why I will be leaving/And this is why, I can’t see you no more/I will miss your heart so tender/And I will love/This love forever.” Been there, done that, and Marshall captures it with aching perfection lyrically and musically.

Yet, despite the confrontational intensity of the album, Marshall succeeds in delivering conflicts in a disarmingly understated way. So much so, that if you don’t play the disc a few times (assuming you’re unfamiliar with her) to give the music a chance to seep in, it will deflect like a rock skipping across water. Once you’re in though, most of the album will grow on you, building in intensity with each play.

The recording by Adam Kasper (Foo Fighters, Queens of the Stone Age) is direct, to the point, honest and what you might call “hi-fi,” but what is currently called “lo-fi,” for some reason. I’m not complaining. You can buy the vinyl for 11 bucks here: www.matadorrecords.com/cat_power/discography.php