All My CDs, pt 13: Moodswings

Moodswings - Brodsky Quartet

I’m not especially familiar with the work of the Brodsky Quartet except for their collaborations with singer-songwriters; when they do, I believe what they create is a genre of music separate from and greater than what a good singer-songwriter and a good string quartet can each achieve on their own. In this album, they worked with a variety of vocalists and writers. Roughly half the songs were with established artists from wildly divergent genres, from Bjork to Sting, and in others they collaborate with students and teachers in several schools in what I’m sure was a tremendous learning experience for all involved.

The title of this album comes from the first track, a beautiful and exciting arrangement of “My Mood Swings” by Elvis Costello, but it may also refer to the vast array of  styles represented in the songs that follow. Some sound like jazz standards, others like avant-garde art songs, others like classed-up rock. In some, such as Dumptruck or I’ve Seen It All, the lyrics seem to take center stage and the music provides flourish. In others, such as Shallow Footsteps or the wordless Gotham Lullaby, the vocals are treated more like a fifth instrument than a deliverer of words.  And somehow all this diversity is achieved within the confines of a string quartet accompanying a single voice for each song.

There are so many songs here that I would love to name as my favorite, not just on the album but out of all songs. I’ve never been more grateful that polyamory in musical taste is an accepted lifestyle choice. Shallow Footsteps taught me that even I can enjoy an operatic style of singing. I Never Went Away is that so-common but so-appreciated thing, the love song that speaks to current experiences. Gotham Lullaby came on late last night when I was driving on the highway straight toward the most beautiful moon I’ve ever seen. And then there's Daedalus.

Daedalus makes me feel so many emotions at once it’s overwhelming. In addition to being the longest song on the album (and I’ve always liked long songs), Daedalus begins with doubt (“is this the life you would have wished for? / Is this the life you would have killed for?”) and progresses to hope (“Can you still find him? / Will you still find him?”) and to fear (“He is fallen / fallen to the sea.”) These emotions repeat and mix together like the voices of a fugue, finding kinship in one another as well as contrast. If I absolutely had to chose a favorite, it would be this one.

And yet... there is always a rub. Among all these wonderful songs there is one that I just can’t stand. Venus Flytrap is not just annoying in the way it’s sung, but its lyrics are malicious and even downright misogynistic. The message of it seems to be along the lines of “How dare a woman be attractive to me and not also nice?” I have forced myself to listen to it a few times so that I could fairly review the entire album, but I have been unable to find anything redeeming about the song.

I have considered deleting Venus Flytrap from my electronic backups of the album, that I can listen to the rest of the songs without being reminded of their misfit sibling, but that seems dishonest to me. I think of a good album as being like a good friend, and good friends often have flaws that must be accepted. The point is that the album is great as a whole, and I love it very much.

Next: Comfort Eagle