The Juliet Letters - Elvis Costello & The Brodsky Quartet
Of the albums in my collection, this has one of the longest histories, tying together multiple generations of my family. Sometime during my early adolescence, my older brother dug it out of my father’s music collection and started playing it; we both quickly fell in love and before long, I had taken the initiative to buy a copy of it for my own personal collection. Since it comes endorsed by both members of my family whom I believe to have better taste than I, there is a significant confidence behind my claim that this is one of the best albums I own.
In my review of Mood Swings by the Brodsky Quartet, I wrote of the unique and amazing genre of music that is created from a certain combination of strings with vocals. Although Mood Swings is an excellent example of such music, the Juliet Letters - the Quartet’s first collaborative creation with Elvis Costello - is really the original and most ideal example, at least for me. When I first discovered Pandora Radio - which suggests new music based on traits of songs or artists you already love - the my first and favorite station was built around the music of The Juliet Letters.
As suggested by the title, each song on the album is loosely in the form of a letter, although some are not clearly written in that way. Although inspired by the appearance in Verona of letters written directly to the fictional Juliet Capulet, only a few even mention Juliet and only one is addressed to her (Romeo’s Seance). I sometimes get the impression that a few token references to Juliet serve mostly to justify the title and call back the original inspiration, such references never feel forced or out of place; instead they serve to reinforce a mood of intense emotion and dark circumstance.
And indeed, all these songs are very dark and intensely emotional; even the cheery-sounding Romeo’s Seance cannot escape the literal specter of death hanging over its general hopefulness. I Almost Had A Weakness is humorous, but disdainful. Swine is energetically furious. Damnation’s Cellar may seem happy, but ends on a definite dark note. And those are perhaps the happiest-sounding songs of the bunch. The rest are varying levels of bittersweet or tragic, with small bright points usually overshadowed by dangerous implications. I suspect there is something about letter-writing that provokes rumination, reminiscence, and catharsis; it is a chance to speak at length without the silencing fear of immediate response. Confidences and confessions not readily spoken of in person can be brought up more freely in a letter.
So it is natural that such an emotionally wrought form of writing be accompanied by the equally emotionally expressive instruments of violin, viola, and cello, and indeed the voices of these instruments become like characters themselves of equal stature to Costello’s vocals. They are no mere accompaniment, but equal partners in telling the stories of these anonymous letter-writers. They show off their amazing abilities in songs like I Thought I’d Write to Juliet, which ends with an instrumental passage unmatched in its portrayal of peril - befitting the story of a soldier writing letters to her favorite author. Swine begins with an equally stunning display which I could listen to over and over again.
There are a few songs I don’t like on the album, but even they do not spoil the enjoyment of the album as a whole. In Why, Costello’s baritone voice seems more out-of-place singing the words of a small child than in the songs where he sings from the perspective of a woman. And Dear Sweet Filthy World has, for me, the disingenuous feeling of a suicide note written by one who has never been suicidal. Even these songs have grown on me over the years.
So this is another album that I will encourage everyone to try out, regardless of what sort of music you enjoy. Whatever genre you try to assign it, it will fail to fit nicely within those boundaries and continue to stand very happily on its own. If you can, listen to the whole thing from start to finish. Each song tells its own story, but they are meant to be told together, in sequence.
With warmest regards,
Next: Armed Forces
Tuesday, September 23, 2014
Monday, September 15, 2014
All My CDs, pt 25: Forerunner
Forerunner - The Cottars
I bought this album after the song Byker Hill showed up on my Pandora station, full of strong, enthusiastic vocals and percussive string accompaniment. Turned out The Cottars were a group of talented and well-trained teenagers from the very Celtic community of Cape Breton, Nova Scotia. I’ve always been fond of Celtic music in general, but to this day, Forerunner has been the only Celtic music I have liked well enough to buy.
Most of us have some idea of what Celtic music sounds like, and many of the tracks - especially the instrumental ones - are along those expected lines, so I won’t describe them too exhaustively except to say that they’re fun to dance to (or at least, to pretend to dance to, since I have little skill at dancing). The Honeysuckle Medley is my favorite of those instrumentals, and was my phone’s ringtone for a while in 2010. I’m not sure what it is about that track that brings me such pleasure, but certainly part of the appeal is that it sounds like it was very fun to play.
Byker Hill, Pat Works On The Railway, and Home by Bearna are traditional folk songs equally fun to listen to, and like many folk songs their words tell interesting (if sometimes quaint) stories. In these songs I find it difficult not to get caught up in these young singers’ enthusiastic delivery. Other songs on the album are of a more contemporary style, not quite folk and not quite pop, such as Hold On and Atlantic Blue. In contrast to the traditional songs, these are mostly sad, solemn songs with depressing subject matter. If you’re prone to fits of crying at tragic stories, be sure to brace yourself before listening to Georgia Lee.
One thing that makes me sad is that none of the songs on this album are originals; they are all either traditional tunes or covers. Maybe that’s one of the drawbacks of being a young and prodigiously talented artist: your skill and exuberance are the envy of the elders, but you lack the experience and wisdom to innovate effectively. When everything is new to you, it is difficult to figure out what new things the world wants. But what do I know? I’m 26 and still figuring out how to write music reviews.
Next: The Juliet Letters.
I bought this album after the song Byker Hill showed up on my Pandora station, full of strong, enthusiastic vocals and percussive string accompaniment. Turned out The Cottars were a group of talented and well-trained teenagers from the very Celtic community of Cape Breton, Nova Scotia. I’ve always been fond of Celtic music in general, but to this day, Forerunner has been the only Celtic music I have liked well enough to buy.
Most of us have some idea of what Celtic music sounds like, and many of the tracks - especially the instrumental ones - are along those expected lines, so I won’t describe them too exhaustively except to say that they’re fun to dance to (or at least, to pretend to dance to, since I have little skill at dancing). The Honeysuckle Medley is my favorite of those instrumentals, and was my phone’s ringtone for a while in 2010. I’m not sure what it is about that track that brings me such pleasure, but certainly part of the appeal is that it sounds like it was very fun to play.
Byker Hill, Pat Works On The Railway, and Home by Bearna are traditional folk songs equally fun to listen to, and like many folk songs their words tell interesting (if sometimes quaint) stories. In these songs I find it difficult not to get caught up in these young singers’ enthusiastic delivery. Other songs on the album are of a more contemporary style, not quite folk and not quite pop, such as Hold On and Atlantic Blue. In contrast to the traditional songs, these are mostly sad, solemn songs with depressing subject matter. If you’re prone to fits of crying at tragic stories, be sure to brace yourself before listening to Georgia Lee.
One thing that makes me sad is that none of the songs on this album are originals; they are all either traditional tunes or covers. Maybe that’s one of the drawbacks of being a young and prodigiously talented artist: your skill and exuberance are the envy of the elders, but you lack the experience and wisdom to innovate effectively. When everything is new to you, it is difficult to figure out what new things the world wants. But what do I know? I’m 26 and still figuring out how to write music reviews.
Next: The Juliet Letters.
Monday, September 08, 2014
All My CDs, pt 24: Initiation
Initiation - Course of Empire
After I had known and loved Telepathic Last Words for a few years, I had a hankering to expand my collection once more and decided to seek out more music by that band. So I ordered a copy of their earlier album, Initiation, with high hopes it would be just as good. Once I had the CD in my player, however, I only played the first few seconds of the first song before turning it off, putting it back in its case, and putting it on a shelf. I didn’t even put it with my other CDs. I just set it aside, with no intention of putting it back on.
My reasons are simple, and a bit shameful: those first few seconds were just too loud and harsh on my ears. While Telepathic Last Words begins quietly, with a meandering mixture of sounds slowly building up to the start of the first song, Initiation begins cold with a loud, repetitive, heavily distorted electric guitar riff. It wasn’t that I couldn’t handle that at all - I like heavy metal - but it wasn’t what I was expecting at that moment, and those who sow expectations are bound to reap disappointment.
I don’t know exactly how long it was before I gave it a second try - months, maybe even a year. When I finally forced myself to listen past those first few seconds, I was able to learn to love something new. I can’t claim to like this album as much as Telepathic Last Words, but that’s a hard act to follow anyway, and Initiation is very good in its own right. I did it a disservice by dismissing it so easily at first.
Really, Initiation’s only shortcomings stem from comparing it unfavorably with Telepathic Last Words. It is not as complex, but is by no means simple either. Its lyrics are not as fascinating, but neither are they boring or trite. And the two albums share a lot of their good qualities, such as their exquisite use of percussion. Both achieve a lot of musical beauty using an instrumental style known for being “ugly” or difficult to listen to.
I can easily name my favorite songs on the album as Minions and Infested. The latter has one of the best intros of any song I’ve encountered, with a slow building up of tension in the form of clattering drumsticks. The final “bonus” track is a remix of Infested which I consider to be one of the best remixes of anything I have ever heard, as well as one of the best uses of sampled music.
Until next time, prepare for some stylistic whiplash.
Next: Forerunner
After I had known and loved Telepathic Last Words for a few years, I had a hankering to expand my collection once more and decided to seek out more music by that band. So I ordered a copy of their earlier album, Initiation, with high hopes it would be just as good. Once I had the CD in my player, however, I only played the first few seconds of the first song before turning it off, putting it back in its case, and putting it on a shelf. I didn’t even put it with my other CDs. I just set it aside, with no intention of putting it back on.
My reasons are simple, and a bit shameful: those first few seconds were just too loud and harsh on my ears. While Telepathic Last Words begins quietly, with a meandering mixture of sounds slowly building up to the start of the first song, Initiation begins cold with a loud, repetitive, heavily distorted electric guitar riff. It wasn’t that I couldn’t handle that at all - I like heavy metal - but it wasn’t what I was expecting at that moment, and those who sow expectations are bound to reap disappointment.
I don’t know exactly how long it was before I gave it a second try - months, maybe even a year. When I finally forced myself to listen past those first few seconds, I was able to learn to love something new. I can’t claim to like this album as much as Telepathic Last Words, but that’s a hard act to follow anyway, and Initiation is very good in its own right. I did it a disservice by dismissing it so easily at first.
Really, Initiation’s only shortcomings stem from comparing it unfavorably with Telepathic Last Words. It is not as complex, but is by no means simple either. Its lyrics are not as fascinating, but neither are they boring or trite. And the two albums share a lot of their good qualities, such as their exquisite use of percussion. Both achieve a lot of musical beauty using an instrumental style known for being “ugly” or difficult to listen to.
I can easily name my favorite songs on the album as Minions and Infested. The latter has one of the best intros of any song I’ve encountered, with a slow building up of tension in the form of clattering drumsticks. The final “bonus” track is a remix of Infested which I consider to be one of the best remixes of anything I have ever heard, as well as one of the best uses of sampled music.
Until next time, prepare for some stylistic whiplash.
Next: Forerunner
Tuesday, September 02, 2014
All My CDs, pt 23: Telepathic Last Words
Telepathic Last Words - Course of Empire
Early in my teens - when I had a few CDs but didn’t yet feel like I had “enough” - I was browsing the “heavy metal" section of a local record shop (now closed) and noticed a cheap one by a band I’d never heard of before. The cover art looked cool and nothing else was tempting, so I bought the CD and took it home. This was the first time I’d ever do this, but not the last.
The album was Telepathic Last Words by Course of Empire, and since then has remained one of my favorite albums. I cannot overstate my extreme good fortune that on the one day I decided to take a chance on something completely unknown, it turned out to be this good. To this day, more than a decade later, I am noticing new things to appreciate about both the music and the lyrics.
When I first bought the album it was shelved under “heavy metal,” and Wikipedia describes Course of Empire as “alternative/post-punk,” but I can’t say either label sits very well with me. So, like Rattlin’ Bones a few reviews ago, I’d encourage people to listen to it regardless of their genre preferences. It might surprise you. For those who shy away from metal’s often-screechy vocals, rest assured that the lead singer of this band never screams. He sings. Keep in mind, though, that there is loud, heavily-distorted guitar. But also less-distorted, easier-on-the-ears bits as well. It’s a mixture.
The music is heavy on percussion, which is understandable considering the band has more than the typical amount of drummers. In many songs, it seems that the drums are at the center of the instrumental landscape, with guitars and even vocals serving merely as a decorative flourish accentuating a steady, yet intricate, beat. Some portions, such as the last few minutes of the song 59 Minutes, consist of nothing but percussion. I’ve always been especially fond of drums, so I’m happy.
The lyrics are mainly very dark, vaguely social-commentary-ish, and full of poetry. They don’t always make sense. When they do make sense, I think they’re nonspecific enough to inspire a range of intellectual responses. I’ve never gotten a sense from one of their songs that it was about any specific thing.
When listening to this album, I find it difficult sometimes to remember what song I’m listening to without checking, but not because they all sound alike. They do not sound alike. Nor is it a concept album, with some thematic common thread connecting the songs together. But they do go together, in a way I’ve never quite been able to explain, to an extent that I have never been able to think of it as a collection of individual songs. Some of the songs do come close to being individuals, such as Respect, the penultimate track. But its deeply creepy, distorted instrumentation and disturbing lyrics simply have more impact when you’ve already listened to the eleven tracks coming before it. I’ve never gotten just one of the songs stuck in my head; if I’m thinking of one, I’m thinking of the whole album. They just go together.
Listen to it late at night. Listen to it in headphones while staring at your bedroom ceiling, like a teenager. Listen to it while under the influence. Listen to it over and over for half your life. You’ll never feel a thing / I’m swimming on your brain / I’m pulsing through your veins...
Next: Initiation
Early in my teens - when I had a few CDs but didn’t yet feel like I had “enough” - I was browsing the “heavy metal" section of a local record shop (now closed) and noticed a cheap one by a band I’d never heard of before. The cover art looked cool and nothing else was tempting, so I bought the CD and took it home. This was the first time I’d ever do this, but not the last.
The album was Telepathic Last Words by Course of Empire, and since then has remained one of my favorite albums. I cannot overstate my extreme good fortune that on the one day I decided to take a chance on something completely unknown, it turned out to be this good. To this day, more than a decade later, I am noticing new things to appreciate about both the music and the lyrics.
When I first bought the album it was shelved under “heavy metal,” and Wikipedia describes Course of Empire as “alternative/post-punk,” but I can’t say either label sits very well with me. So, like Rattlin’ Bones a few reviews ago, I’d encourage people to listen to it regardless of their genre preferences. It might surprise you. For those who shy away from metal’s often-screechy vocals, rest assured that the lead singer of this band never screams. He sings. Keep in mind, though, that there is loud, heavily-distorted guitar. But also less-distorted, easier-on-the-ears bits as well. It’s a mixture.
The music is heavy on percussion, which is understandable considering the band has more than the typical amount of drummers. In many songs, it seems that the drums are at the center of the instrumental landscape, with guitars and even vocals serving merely as a decorative flourish accentuating a steady, yet intricate, beat. Some portions, such as the last few minutes of the song 59 Minutes, consist of nothing but percussion. I’ve always been especially fond of drums, so I’m happy.
The lyrics are mainly very dark, vaguely social-commentary-ish, and full of poetry. They don’t always make sense. When they do make sense, I think they’re nonspecific enough to inspire a range of intellectual responses. I’ve never gotten a sense from one of their songs that it was about any specific thing.
When listening to this album, I find it difficult sometimes to remember what song I’m listening to without checking, but not because they all sound alike. They do not sound alike. Nor is it a concept album, with some thematic common thread connecting the songs together. But they do go together, in a way I’ve never quite been able to explain, to an extent that I have never been able to think of it as a collection of individual songs. Some of the songs do come close to being individuals, such as Respect, the penultimate track. But its deeply creepy, distorted instrumentation and disturbing lyrics simply have more impact when you’ve already listened to the eleven tracks coming before it. I’ve never gotten just one of the songs stuck in my head; if I’m thinking of one, I’m thinking of the whole album. They just go together.
Listen to it late at night. Listen to it in headphones while staring at your bedroom ceiling, like a teenager. Listen to it while under the influence. Listen to it over and over for half your life. You’ll never feel a thing / I’m swimming on your brain / I’m pulsing through your veins...
Next: Initiation
Friday, August 29, 2014
All My CDs, pt 22: Still Got Legs
Still Got Legs - Chameleon Circuit
Chameleon Circuit is a British band whose music is inspired by and mostly about the TV series Doctor Who. But don’t think that this means it’s inaccessible or unenjoyable by those who don’t know or like the show. Not that you necessarily would like it regardless of your familiarity with the show, or that understanding the references doesn’t provide a large part of its enjoyability for some, but... you know. Just like you don’t have to be religious to enjoy hymns, you don’t have to be a Doctor Who fan to like this. But it helps.
This is the group’s second album, and refers to events and characters from season 5 (a.k.a. Matt Smith’s first season) and the end of season 4 (a.k.a. David Tennant's last season), as well as stand-alone specials that occur between them. This review will not contain spoilers for the show, but the lyrics of the songs do, so be warned.
The sound of the album contains elements of punk rock and light metal, and ranges from spookily distorted to jangly and cheerful, from wholly synthesized to stripped-down acoustic. The tunes are mostly original, but often refer in varying degrees to themes and melodies from the soundtrack of the show, providing musical as well as lyrical connections for the attentive listener.
Individual songs are mostly first-person explorations of characters and situations, and are very well-written and expressively sung. Most of them are pretty glum, such as Everything Is Ending and Mr. Pond. But a few, such as Still Not Ginger and Teenage Rebel, are much more cheery. Teenage Rebel, in particular, is my favorite track, an excellent running song, and in my opinion the least explicitly Doctor Who-related - in other words, it could easily be interpreted as being relatable by many different listeners for many different reasons. Its fast-paced punky sound is infectiously upbeat, and its words are optimistic and self-confident: “I won’t ever stop / ‘cause I know what’s right / get in my way, I will burst into light / I’ll keep dying and living and changing my ways / but I was a teenage rebel and that stayed the same.”
One song, Big Bang Two, breaks the first-person pattern in favor of a blow-by-blow synopsis of season 5‘s finale from the perspective of a flabbergasted viewer. Since this song is all about how confusing the series can be even for longtime fans, it may also be accessible to non-fans who are equally bemused by the whole thing. But, like I said... spoilers.
I find this album pretty fun to listen to. I’ve been taught to be wary of metamedia (for lack of a better term) - art that builds upon or refers to some other art. It’s sometimes regarded as derivitive, unimaginitive, or even as plagiaristic. But I definitely have a few such items in my collection, and I’m not about to be ashamed of that. Let’s just say: this is a good album. It’s definitely worth checking out if you’re a fan of Doctor Who, and possibly worth checking out regardless.
Next: Telepathic Last Words
Chameleon Circuit is a British band whose music is inspired by and mostly about the TV series Doctor Who. But don’t think that this means it’s inaccessible or unenjoyable by those who don’t know or like the show. Not that you necessarily would like it regardless of your familiarity with the show, or that understanding the references doesn’t provide a large part of its enjoyability for some, but... you know. Just like you don’t have to be religious to enjoy hymns, you don’t have to be a Doctor Who fan to like this. But it helps.
This is the group’s second album, and refers to events and characters from season 5 (a.k.a. Matt Smith’s first season) and the end of season 4 (a.k.a. David Tennant's last season), as well as stand-alone specials that occur between them. This review will not contain spoilers for the show, but the lyrics of the songs do, so be warned.
The sound of the album contains elements of punk rock and light metal, and ranges from spookily distorted to jangly and cheerful, from wholly synthesized to stripped-down acoustic. The tunes are mostly original, but often refer in varying degrees to themes and melodies from the soundtrack of the show, providing musical as well as lyrical connections for the attentive listener.
Individual songs are mostly first-person explorations of characters and situations, and are very well-written and expressively sung. Most of them are pretty glum, such as Everything Is Ending and Mr. Pond. But a few, such as Still Not Ginger and Teenage Rebel, are much more cheery. Teenage Rebel, in particular, is my favorite track, an excellent running song, and in my opinion the least explicitly Doctor Who-related - in other words, it could easily be interpreted as being relatable by many different listeners for many different reasons. Its fast-paced punky sound is infectiously upbeat, and its words are optimistic and self-confident: “I won’t ever stop / ‘cause I know what’s right / get in my way, I will burst into light / I’ll keep dying and living and changing my ways / but I was a teenage rebel and that stayed the same.”
One song, Big Bang Two, breaks the first-person pattern in favor of a blow-by-blow synopsis of season 5‘s finale from the perspective of a flabbergasted viewer. Since this song is all about how confusing the series can be even for longtime fans, it may also be accessible to non-fans who are equally bemused by the whole thing. But, like I said... spoilers.
I find this album pretty fun to listen to. I’ve been taught to be wary of metamedia (for lack of a better term) - art that builds upon or refers to some other art. It’s sometimes regarded as derivitive, unimaginitive, or even as plagiaristic. But I definitely have a few such items in my collection, and I’m not about to be ashamed of that. Let’s just say: this is a good album. It’s definitely worth checking out if you’re a fan of Doctor Who, and possibly worth checking out regardless.
Next: Telepathic Last Words
Saturday, August 23, 2014
All My CDs, pt 21 - Rattlin' Bones
Rattlin’ Bones - Kasey Chambers and Shane Nicholson
There’s a lot of variability in my music collection. Some of it is popular, some obscure. Some is vouched-for by those with genuine Good Taste, and some is scorned by those very ears. When I describe music as good, it is often with the disclaimer that this is only my opinion, sometimes shared by few. In the case of this album - the collaborative product of Kasey Chambers and Shane Nicholson - I can say with confidence that it is, objectively, one of the best albums I own. Listen to it.
I mean that even if you, as a rule, shun country music. This album is unmistakably country, but old-school country, and from where I stand seems to have more in common with folk rock than a lot of modern country music. It also has a lot of good stuff that transcendes genre distinctions and is just all-around good. Regardless of your preferred genres, listen.
As the title might suggest, the mood of the album is dark, but is contains enough contrasting lightness to accentuate that darkness. The lighter songs are down-to-earth and homey, and describe love, family, and home in simple and comforting terms. Sweetest Waste of Time and Once in a While are love songs that are satisfied with very little, being content with just brief, fleeting happiness. The House That Never Was reminds us that family trumps material wealth any day.
On the side of darkness, there are frequent references to Hell, the devil, and other elements of Christian mythology, and those images are used to great effect to describe the despondancy and despair that often permiates life. Monkey on a Wire is ominously catchy, and The Devil’s Inside My Head rings especially true to me as a sufferer of mental illness. I enjoy singing along with it at the top of my voice on the highway.
The album opens with the title track, Rattlin’ Bones, which has such intensely hellish and otherworldly imagery that it is almost a nightmare all on its own. When you listen to it, compare it with Your Day Will Come, near the end of the album. The two songs have much in common musically, although the similarities are masked by different vocal melodies. But the lyrical and instrumental themes are almost identical, to the point where I consider them to be versions of the same song - looking at the same subject from different angles.
Throughout the album are exciting instrumentation (guitars, banjos, fiddles) and beautiful vocal harmonies. Kasey Chambers and Shane Nicholson, along with the other musicians they brought together for this album, work very well together. I found out, while checking some facts online, that while I wasn’t paying attention they have produced another collaborative album, Wreck and Ruin. I am committed to not getting any new CDs until I am finished with this review projec, but I am sorely tempted to check this one out. It will have to wait, though. About a hundred more remain.
Next: Still Got Legs
There’s a lot of variability in my music collection. Some of it is popular, some obscure. Some is vouched-for by those with genuine Good Taste, and some is scorned by those very ears. When I describe music as good, it is often with the disclaimer that this is only my opinion, sometimes shared by few. In the case of this album - the collaborative product of Kasey Chambers and Shane Nicholson - I can say with confidence that it is, objectively, one of the best albums I own. Listen to it.
I mean that even if you, as a rule, shun country music. This album is unmistakably country, but old-school country, and from where I stand seems to have more in common with folk rock than a lot of modern country music. It also has a lot of good stuff that transcendes genre distinctions and is just all-around good. Regardless of your preferred genres, listen.
As the title might suggest, the mood of the album is dark, but is contains enough contrasting lightness to accentuate that darkness. The lighter songs are down-to-earth and homey, and describe love, family, and home in simple and comforting terms. Sweetest Waste of Time and Once in a While are love songs that are satisfied with very little, being content with just brief, fleeting happiness. The House That Never Was reminds us that family trumps material wealth any day.
On the side of darkness, there are frequent references to Hell, the devil, and other elements of Christian mythology, and those images are used to great effect to describe the despondancy and despair that often permiates life. Monkey on a Wire is ominously catchy, and The Devil’s Inside My Head rings especially true to me as a sufferer of mental illness. I enjoy singing along with it at the top of my voice on the highway.
The album opens with the title track, Rattlin’ Bones, which has such intensely hellish and otherworldly imagery that it is almost a nightmare all on its own. When you listen to it, compare it with Your Day Will Come, near the end of the album. The two songs have much in common musically, although the similarities are masked by different vocal melodies. But the lyrical and instrumental themes are almost identical, to the point where I consider them to be versions of the same song - looking at the same subject from different angles.
Throughout the album are exciting instrumentation (guitars, banjos, fiddles) and beautiful vocal harmonies. Kasey Chambers and Shane Nicholson, along with the other musicians they brought together for this album, work very well together. I found out, while checking some facts online, that while I wasn’t paying attention they have produced another collaborative album, Wreck and Ruin. I am committed to not getting any new CDs until I am finished with this review projec, but I am sorely tempted to check this one out. It will have to wait, though. About a hundred more remain.
Next: Still Got Legs
Sunday, August 17, 2014
All My CDs, pt 20: Carnival
Carnival - Kasey Chambers
Open up the sky, all gather ‘round
Praise the lord and take a look at what I found
I’ve got a love that’s as big as a raging storm
I got walls coming down that I don’t need no more
I got a sign on the door that says ‘lonely don’t live here anymore’
Carnival is the last Kasey Chambers solo album in my collection, and my personal favorite. It’s also, as far as I can tell, the happiest of her albums, with more songs about contentment and appreciation than about heartbreak and sorrow. Even ostensibly sad songs, such as Surrender or Hard Road, sound more sweet than bitter to me. When I heard the album for the first time, I remember wondering at the shift in mood. One line from the song Dangerous seems to encapsulate the shift in my mind: “We are dangerous no more.” It seems that, one way or another, healing has taken place. If that’s just a projection of my own feelings in reaction to the song, perhaps it means that I have healed somewhat since I first started listening.
Among the happy songs on the album is Sign on the Door, quoted above, which jubilantly celebrates the wonder of newfound love. You Make Me Sing is another good love song, and both follow Chambers’s usual pattern of hyperbolic admiration of the beloved, as well as mixing dark and light imagery. In Light Up a Candle, Chambers sets aside her long standing habit of songs about hopeless devotion, and sings about not being especially passionate one way or another. The narrator in this song is open to love, but not falling for it yet; this is refreshingly, although I rarely feel that way myself.
I Got You Now echoes some of the sentiments in the song Barricades & Brickwalls, which I described as a stalker song, but somehow does not bother me as much. Perhaps because I interpret it as being an expression of consensual, reciprocal sexual feeling, rather than an unwelcome invasion. It’s not an easy line to draw, I know; behavior that would be considered abusive if unwelcome can be a thrilling expression of love if it is consensual. And love, even in the best of times, is not always “wholesome.”
In the tradition of songs like We Didn’t Start the Fire by Billy Joel and It’s The End of the World As We Know It by R.E.M., Nothing At All contains verses full of rapidly-delivered, disjointed imagery alongside a slower, catchier chorus. Like many of Chambers’s earlier songs it has sad words and a happy sound, but in this case the juxtaposition doesn’t seem jarring or unsuited. It may be my favorite track.
Shortly after releasing Carnival, Kasey Chambers collaborated on an album with her then-husband Shane Nicholson. This will be the subject of my next review.
Next: Rattlin’ Bones
Open up the sky, all gather ‘round
Praise the lord and take a look at what I found
I’ve got a love that’s as big as a raging storm
I got walls coming down that I don’t need no more
I got a sign on the door that says ‘lonely don’t live here anymore’
Carnival is the last Kasey Chambers solo album in my collection, and my personal favorite. It’s also, as far as I can tell, the happiest of her albums, with more songs about contentment and appreciation than about heartbreak and sorrow. Even ostensibly sad songs, such as Surrender or Hard Road, sound more sweet than bitter to me. When I heard the album for the first time, I remember wondering at the shift in mood. One line from the song Dangerous seems to encapsulate the shift in my mind: “We are dangerous no more.” It seems that, one way or another, healing has taken place. If that’s just a projection of my own feelings in reaction to the song, perhaps it means that I have healed somewhat since I first started listening.
Among the happy songs on the album is Sign on the Door, quoted above, which jubilantly celebrates the wonder of newfound love. You Make Me Sing is another good love song, and both follow Chambers’s usual pattern of hyperbolic admiration of the beloved, as well as mixing dark and light imagery. In Light Up a Candle, Chambers sets aside her long standing habit of songs about hopeless devotion, and sings about not being especially passionate one way or another. The narrator in this song is open to love, but not falling for it yet; this is refreshingly, although I rarely feel that way myself.
I Got You Now echoes some of the sentiments in the song Barricades & Brickwalls, which I described as a stalker song, but somehow does not bother me as much. Perhaps because I interpret it as being an expression of consensual, reciprocal sexual feeling, rather than an unwelcome invasion. It’s not an easy line to draw, I know; behavior that would be considered abusive if unwelcome can be a thrilling expression of love if it is consensual. And love, even in the best of times, is not always “wholesome.”
In the tradition of songs like We Didn’t Start the Fire by Billy Joel and It’s The End of the World As We Know It by R.E.M., Nothing At All contains verses full of rapidly-delivered, disjointed imagery alongside a slower, catchier chorus. Like many of Chambers’s earlier songs it has sad words and a happy sound, but in this case the juxtaposition doesn’t seem jarring or unsuited. It may be my favorite track.
Shortly after releasing Carnival, Kasey Chambers collaborated on an album with her then-husband Shane Nicholson. This will be the subject of my next review.
Next: Rattlin’ Bones
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)