Sugar Blow.
Escape Artists, Leonard Cohen, Cat Power
by Hollis Broderick
Whenever I think of Canadian musicians, I have a hard time coming up with anyone beyond Bryan Adams and Corey Hart. But upon further, research-assisted reflection, I find irrefutable proof that it is a fertile breeding ground for talent of the notes-grafted-to-rhythm-and-words variety.
Such all-time greats as Joni Mitchell, Neil Young, Jane Siberry, and Leonard Cohen are as Canadian as the ham known as bacon. Other worthy artists include Alanis Morissette, Skinny Puppy, Cowboy Junkies, Nelly Furtado, Men Without Hats, K.D. Lang, Buffy Sainte-Marie, and Sarah McLachlan. And don’t forget current wűnderkinds like Rufus Wainwright, New Pornographers, and the Stills.
There must be something good in the water, and it’s not just salmon milt. It tastes like......freedom.
Leonard Cohen: Dear Heather
[2004, Sony]
How many times am I going to get suckered by this guy? He was once a louche troubadour whose best work had an almost holy resonance, and now I’m embarrassed to say what I really think of him. I just keep hoping for some kind of masterful resurrection.
It all started, or rather ended, with I’m Your Man (1988). The songwriting was strong enough to almost make one forgive the horrible arrangements. Almost. The production was tacky and cheap, ruined by Casio keyboards, preset drum machine rhythms, and generic R&B inf(l)ected background vocals. Such cheesy elements can be found on earlier works, but in quantities too small to sour the entire album.
How can someone with the ear of a poet not hear the awfulness of it all? The release of The Future (1992) and Ten New Songs (2001) brought more of the same, but with less compelling songs beneath.
Since the Seventies, Leonard has effectively affected a lounge singer’s sensibilities. Classically corny, ironically elegant, seductively indecent. But his swerve into lite-jazz alley on amateur night was unforeseen by even the oracles. Maybe he’s been hanging out with the wrong crowd. Like studio musicians.
On songs like “The Letters” and “Undertow”, Dear Heather has a mournful quality that is relieved by the artsy romance of “Morning Glory” and “Villanelle for Our Time”. Other than an amusing live version of “Tennessee Waltz”, there is nothing else here that needs to be heard.
My dream is for Leonard to find producers and collaborators who are exquisitely talented in the things he lacks. Jon Brion? Sinéad O’Connor? David Byrne? Or if he wants to blow our minds, Edward Ka-Spel!
Cat Power: Speaking for Trees
[2004, Matador]
Chan Marshall and an electric guitar stand in a forest clearing. Crickets chirp. A motionless camera records. Speaking for Trees includes a DVD with 17 different songs performed outdoors and a music CD containing one 18-minute song.
Chan is an infamously erratic live performer. Her xenophobic neuroses typically prevent her from singing more than two or three complete songs in concert. Some find it endearing in an underdog sort of way. I tend to think of it as misrepresentation and fraud after I’ve paid $15 to watch a musician perform music.
But I have witnessed one exemplary show of hers at the Crocodile Café in Seattle, WA. Following the release of Moon Pix (1998), she toured with a silent, black-and-white version of the film Joan of Arc. While she performed, the movie was projected onto a sheet hanging across the back of the stage. From start to finish, it was exceptional. My theory is that this set-up tricked the goofy part of her brain into believing that people were watching the movie instead of her. Problem solved.
The pressure-less, scrutiny-less setting of Speaking for Trees keeps her relatively focused and at ease. She combines new and old originals with well-known cover songs in a way that feels more like a private rehearsal than a formal performance. But some songs are repeated two and even three times, and it just lacks the bite and blood of her studio recordings and live bootleg MP3’s.
“Willie Deadwilder” is the 18-minute piece. At that length, I was expecting an epic in the vein of “Alice’s Restaurant” or Beethoven’s Fifth. But it’s a regular song with a repeated melodic figure and non-repeating lyrics. No big whoop.
This is not the way to introduce yourself to Cat Power, but existent fans will want every possible recording they can find. I only wish the filming was more inventive. Have her sit in a tree, walk down a winding path, play at sunrise, or sing next to a sparking campfire surrounded by utter blackness. Provide images worthy of her fearful strengths.
You never change things by fighting the existing reality.
To change something, build a new model that makes the existing model obsolete.
-- R. Buckminster Fuller
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Talk! SugarBlow@adrianryan.com
Sugar Blow, Smart Music for the Anti-Masses by Hollis Broderick will appear with fresh insights, reviews and opinions here each week.
