Showing posts with label Chris Isaak. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Chris Isaak. Show all posts

Sunday, August 18, 2013

“Taming The Tiger,” by Joni Mitchell


Musically, Joni Mitchell’s 1998 album, Taming The Tiger, feels ethereal and dreamy, almost formless. Reminiscent of classic albums by Pat Metheny, Brian Eno, or even Beck’s heartbreaking, 2002 album, Sea Change. Ditching catchy pop hooks and melodies for atmospherics, on Taming The Tiger, Mitchell weaves a dramatic, often mournful, and sometimes mysterious sonic tapestry. The “samey” tone of the album might make one prematurely dismissive, but that would be a mistake, as Taming The Tiger holds some of Mitchell’s most creative lyrics and striking social commentary. And the similar, sorrowful hues of the album make sense: Tiger tells the story of Joni Mitchell at that particular moment in her life: a woman in her middle age, at the top of her craft - easily producing masterworks on a backstroke, reflecting on her wondrous experiences, reveling in the joys of the present, continuing her thoughtful critique of a civilization in decline, and ultimately, strangely, miraculously feeling peaceful about the entire enterprise.

In the joyous album opener, “Harlem In Havana,” Mitchell depicts a childhood memory of visiting the African-Cuban burlesque review that some suggest to be the beginning of rock-and-roll. Mitchell’s lyrics describe the “forbidden" sights and sounds on the midway, where they played so “snakey,” you couldn’t help how you felt: “Silver spangles, See 'em dangle in the farm boy's eyes...hootchie kootchie, Auntie Ruthie would've died if she knew we were on the inside!” In “Love Puts On A New Face,” Mitchell perfectly depicts the tranquility of a quiet moment with a loved one, “No telephone ringing, no company coming, just the lap of the lake and the firelight, and the lonely loon and the crescent moon, what a pocket of heavenly grace.” Indeed. And in “The Crazy Cries Of Love,” Mitchell joyously recounts two frenzied lovers losing themselves to reckless abandon, with “No paper thin walls, no folks above, no one else can hear the crazy cries of love,” and later in the café, “…they smile ear to ear and eye to eye, ice cream is melting on a piece of pie, oh, my my…” Playful. Truthful. Tender.

Mitchell summons English poet and painter William Blake (her kindred spirit and consistent source of inspiration) in the title track, an apt summation of the music industry in the mid-1990s, as personified, no doubt, by her victorious night at the Grammys a few years earlier, collecting a surprise trophy for “Best Pop Album.” The surprise being that the album, Turbulent Indigo, sold relatively few copies that year, and none of the teenagers buying records in 1994 could have hummed even one of its tunes. Inspired by lyrics from Blake’s poem, “The Tyger,” I’ve often wondered if the song describes her experience at the award ceremony that night as she must have, no doubt, reflected upon how her latest “golden egg” compared to the music of that moment (e.g., Ace Of Base, Coolio, Crash Test Dummies, etc.): a strange juxtaposition.

Another song, I suspect, about her experiences in the dog-eat-dog music industry, “Lead Balloon,” is probably her hardest rocking song, ever. It sounds eerily similar to the well-known story of Mitchell throwing her drink into the face of Rolling Stone Svengali, Jan Wenner, in the early 1970’s, sparking a grudge between the two that lasts to this day. The notorious incident incited what some have suggested a moratorium on all things "Joni Mitchell" in his popular magazine in the 1970’s. In fact, the publication routinely berated Mitchell’s late 1970’s masterworks, which were vindicated over time and are now widely regarded as some of her very best and enduring albums (incidentally, recent Rolling Stone publications have self-consciously corrected these scathing notices).

Taming The Tiger boasts some of Mitchell’s most tender poetry, including a remake of her heartbreaking “Man From Mars,” which was originally featured on a few thousand copies of the soundtrack to the obscure 1996 film, Grace Of My Heart, which borrowed its name from Mitchell's song and presented a fictionalized version of Carole King’s early career in pop music. In it, Mitchell sings about a lost love: “I fall apart every time I think of you swallowed by the dark. There is no center to my life now, no grace in my heart. Man from Mars: this time you went too far…” The version on Tiger is updated and of a piece with the sonic palette of the rest of the album. In the tender cajoling of “Facelift,” Mitchell affectionately recalls an argument with her mother, who disapproved of her “love without a license,” and in “Stay In Touch,” Mitchell describes the excitement, doubt, and hopeful tentativeness of navigating a burgeoning relationship with her (then) new-found daughter, whom she’d given up for adoption decades earlier: “Part of this is permanent, part of this is passing, so we must be loyal and wary
 - not to give away too much, until we build a firm foundation and empty out old habits:
 old habits. Stay in touch. We should stay in touch.”

Mitchell’s sooty vocals have been the brunt of harsh criticism since the early 1990’s, with one reviewer writing of this album, “Meanwhile, her voice has lost nearly all its power: thin and breathy, restricted to the middle of her former range - I wanted to cry listening to it.” Yes, Mitchell’s voice has changed over time, as have all singers still active after many decades, but I believe this is only problematic for artists known for a distinct vocal style or range. Mitchell has never been that kind of artist. Take Whitney Houston, for example. In the 1980’s, her voice could thrill with a whisper and then soar to unfathomable heights, but by the last decade of her tragic life, her once astounding instrument sounded raspy and lacked power, as if fighting back a coughing fit on every note. Mitchell’s voice has been evolving since her earliest, cold-water vocals from the Canyon, her sultrier, jazzy singing through the 1970’s, and her beautifully smoky-voiced style of the 1980’s and 1990’s.

What I love about Mitchell’s voice today is that it’s perfectly attuned to her music and lyrics in the present. She’s no longer the flower-beaded ingénue of the 1960’s or the 1970’s darling of the Hollywood elite. She’s not only survived, but she’s thrived through decades of disposable fashion and pop music trends, creating a classification all her own. In fact, Mitchell’s seasoned voice is now even better suited for some of her classic songs from decades past (e.g., “Circle Game,” “Both Sides Now,” “Big Yellow Taxi,” etc.). Taming The Tiger received middling to favorable reviews upon release, but all rather tepid from my perspective. That was 15 years ago, and the musical climate was steeped in the “juvenile junk food” of Spice Girls, ‘N Sync, Backstreet Boys, and even rock legend, Elton John’s awkwardly reworked (yet again) “Candle In The Wind,” performed at Princess Diana’s funeral and selling millions of copies along the way. It’s 2013, and like her late-1970’s work, I suspect Taming The Tiger will no doubt be vindicated with time, standing out as one of Mitchell's very best works.

Saturday, August 8, 2009

"Baja Sessions," by Chris Isaak

Best known for his 1991 hit, “Wicked Game,” used in the creepy David Lynch film, “Wild At Heart,” Chris Isaak makes living through sad and tormented personal relationships sexy and hip. Don’t believe me? Check out his second best-known sort-of hit, “Baby Did A Bad, Bad Thing,” used in the trailer of another creepy film, Stanley Kubrick’s, “Eyes Wide Shut.” See what I mean? In Isaak’s Elvis Presley-fueled, early-rock world, heartbreak is a strangely familiar presence…and it’s also just kind of strange: always lurking in grim shadows down dark, murky motel hallways. Isaak’s mournful croon echoes Orbison perfectly, as his grumble is as simpatico as his falsetto.

But as cool as he is, picking any one Chris Isaak album to highlight for a “Must Hear” blog is a difficult and somewhat arbitrary task. I mean, while universally hailed by critics, Isaak’s albums are sometimes described as being interchangeable, with no one album standing out as a “new direction” or finding Isaak taking a on different approach or style. And that’s what I love about this rockabilly acolyte. With Isaak, there will likely never be an experimental period; there will never be a “Justin record;” there will only be straight-ahead, but suffering and romanticized rock-and-roll music. Even Isaak’s 2004 holiday offering,
Christmas, doesn’t veer from this well-honed approach.

But it’s the ongoing artist – audience dilemma, isn’t it? The artist wants to grow and evolve, not getting mucked into routine or repeating themselves, and the audience wants to hear what they like, what’s familiar. And either perspective is completely defensible. Case in point for the artist’s side: Radiohead constantly evolves and reinvents its sound, pushing into new and uncharted sonic territory with each new release: and they do so exquisitely. Case in point for the fan’s side: Sade puts out essentially the same album every four to five years, adding a few sonic embellishments du jour, and the fans scramble back for more. Some artists adapt well with change (i.e., Paul Simon, Green Day, and Madonna, who has famously predicted the “next big thing” with startling accuracy), but some attempts to adapt with the changing musical tides quickly fall apart (e.g., 
Carpenters, Chicago, and the once great Stevie Wonder, who spiraled into synthesizer hell with early-80’s drivel like “Part-Time Lover” and “I Just Called To Say I Love You”).

But if Chris Isaak has one album that stands out among the excellent bunch, it’s his fresh and uncluttered
Baja Sessions. Inspired by time in the beautiful, breezy, Baja, Mexico, the album highlights Isaak’s lighter musical side. What stands out about Baja Sessions is the laid-back approach that permeates this alluring effort. It’s as if he and the band are lounging in their beach chairs and hammocks, bare feet dangling over the side, playing their favorite bummed-out love songs, and somebody accidently pressed “record” on the reel-to-reel. In fact, Baja Sessions is one of the most relaxed albums I’ve ever heard, covering songs from his beloved pre-rock era and some of Isaac’s own songs, perfectly co-opted from previous albums.

The album’s opener, “Pretty Girls Don’t Cry,” is a whispered Orbison sound-alike, and sets the breezy pre-rock pace of the album. Two outstanding covers follow shortly after, Roy Orbison’s classic, “
Only The Lonely,” and Gene Autry’s 1939 hit, “South Of The Border (Down Mexico Way),” which sounds like it was written with Isaak in mind. Baja Sessions also returns to stunning originals from Isaak’s previous albums, most notably, “Wrong To Love You,” from Heart Shaped World, and the lovely, “Two Hearts,” from San Francisco Days. The Baja versions are stripped down and chilled, and the fresh take on these familiar tunes offers a significantly original vision without watering down the songs’ vitality. Hearing Isaak cover his own material reminds me why he is such a resilient artist: he doesn’t rely on hits to deliver his work; he never has. Isaak focuses solely on creating enduring, classic pre-rock and roll that transcends trends and top 40 radio.