Betty Lenard - Apus

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Apus is the debut album from Betty Lenard. It takes its name from a constellation that is visible in the southern hemisphere that represents the bird of paradise. So the album is a journey away from the familiar, and into an exotic place. The first and last songs on the album make clear the nature of this journey. Apus opens with Drain a Cup, where the protagonist has a nice cup of tea before heading off to bed, and beginning to dream. Sleep, which closes the album, takes its protagonist through the dream state into the waking state in the morning. So I don’t think that it is too much of a stretch to say that Apus is a journey through an unsettled night of vivid dreams.

The narrator finds herself in a state of uncertainty about a love relationship. So the dreams reflect her hopes and fears. Some are the kind where the dreamer is the main character, while in others, the dreamer merely observes the story. The music is a mix of electronic and programmed parts and organic instruments processed electronically. The songs often start without a regular beat, build to a consistent groove, and then fall apart, only to recombine in new ways. So you can never be sure which instruments are real and which are not, and the emotions are so powerful that they tend to be unstable. Haven’t we all had nights of dreams like that? Betty Lenard sings in a high soprano that is full of emotion, and she also provides overdubbed background vocals. So she is in control of putting over most of the emotion here, and she makes it work beautifully. Lenard also has excellent dynamic control, and she can alter her tone in more ways than most singers. All of this serves the songs.

Lenard is not a wordy writer. She leaves holes in her narratives, just as you would experience in a dream. They make sense while you are asleep, but tend to whither in daylight. Writing songs this way means risking leaving your listener frustrated, but Lenard never has that problem. Soldier is one of the songs where the dreamer is an observer. Here is, literally, a soldier who is weary of war and ready to lay down their arms. Metaphorically, here is a person who has viewed relationships as battles to be won, and has come to the realization that all of these victories aren’t bringing happiness. The song works beautifully on both levels. In Risky Girl, there is a tension between the dreamer and the subject of the dream. At first, the dreamer seems to be just an observer, but it becomes clear that the actions of the “risky girl” also have a direct effect on the narrator. It is never clear what the relationship is between the two, but the emotions come through loud and clear. Dancer uses the movements of the human body as a metaphor for the ebb and flow of a relationship. In Engrave, the Norse winter goddess Skadi has built a fortress of ice which imprisons the protagonist’s feelings. The narrator encourages her to break out, and set her emotions free.

Taken as a whole, Apus is a musical dreamscape. The words reflect a state of emotional flux, and the uncertainty that goes with it. Betty Lenard puts it all together beautifully. Apus is both fascinating and moving. Lenard’s next album may be a further journey into dreams, or it may take place in the waking world. I don’t know which it will be, but I am eager to find out.

Betty Lenard: Soldier

Betty Lenard: Engrave

For a Song: Stoli

Penelope Houston: Stoli

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In the first wave of punk music, The Avengers were somewhat unusual for having a female lead “singer”. Of course, singing is not the right word. The band roared away, with the blaring guitars in your face, and it was the job of Penelope Houston to roar the words right along with it. There was absolutely no evidence that she could actually sing in anything like a musical way. (You may be able to tell that punk was never my thing.)

Many punk bands flamed out rather quickly, breaking up and then disappearing altogether. When this happened, some of these bands attained legendary status. My sources tell me that this happened to The Avengers, but it meant nothing to me. But this story has an odd twist. Penelope Houston resurfaced in 1989 with a solo album. Birdboys was the title, and that was when I learned all of this back story. I read the reviews articles, and the writers were having trouble picking their jaws off the floor. Penelope Houston had completely reinvented herself, and she was a great singer, so they said. By then I knew that this kind of adoring press would mean that the album was either great or terrible. And remember, Houston used to be a punk, and I don’t like punk. So, I picked up the album with a certain amount of trepidation. Remember, you couldn’t listen online first in those days. And you may ask, what happened?

Soon enough, it was my jaw on the floor. First of all, nobody told me this was a folk album. And man could she sing! She also used combinations of instruments that I had never heard before, and made them work. All in all, she gave a clinic on how to inhabit the emotion of a song in a creative way without oversinging. And then, as if a bonus was needed, the album closed with Stoli. This is as perfect an example of a torch song as you are ever likely to hear.

Also in 1989, I discovered another amazing female singer who used interesting, mostly acoustic settings to convey emotions beautifully. Her name was Sarah McLachlan, and I think you know how that story turned out. But, If you have never heard her album Touch from that year, go and give it a listen when you’re done here.

The Men’s Turn

Last week, I presented a set of music by women, and I posed two questions: What is “women’s music”? and could the songs have been written by men? I also mentioned the notion of “men’s music”. What would that sound like? It occurred to me that I should present a set of music by men for comparison. Then, I could pose these questions again. So here is my set of music by men. Could these songs have been written by women, or is there something distinctly male about them? I would love to read your thoughts in the comments.

Phil Henry: Dear Noreen

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Phil Henry draws his characters beautifully, and they are a collection of men faced with unusual circumstances, who cope as best they can. In Dear Noreen, a coal miner is confronted with the possibility of his own death, and he thinks first to apologize to his wife for a promise he broke. The situation is masculine, but I’m more interested in his emotional state. Would a woman in comparable circumstances express herself this way? This is a love song from a collapsed mine, and it shows Henry’s imagination off well. Henry also makes his character totally believable by capturing his emotional state so well.

Jeff Krantz: Wasteland

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Jeff Krantz writes songs that dwell on the uncertainties of love. Committing oneself in a relationship is always an emotional risk, and Krantz’s characters never lose sight of that. But, in Wasteland, Krantz has another concern. The song is a beautifully rendered meditation on aging. Krantz presents two characters, male and female, and he has them express themselves in very different ways. He clearly sees a difference between men and women. Would a woman see this difference the same way?

Josh Geffin: Time Machine Man

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Josh Geffin uses spare arrangements, but presents detailed and resonant pictures of his characters’ emotions. In Time Machine Man, Geffin gives us an enigmatic lyric. Here is what I take from it. Geffin looks in on a woman who is physically separated from her lover, but whose memories of him are clear. So he is there with her and not there. The sense of yearning comes through loud and clear. A female singer could cover this without changing a word, and it would still work beautifully.

Brad Senne: Road Trip

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Brad Senne is a man of few words, so none are wasted. His singing and arrangements fill in any emotional blanks in his songs. This is a strategy that works beautifully for him. In Road Trip, a couple get away for a few days, and they are perhaps surprised at how strongly they feel a sense of freedom. The song and the performance are both restrained, but the feelings come through clearly.

Ken Helman: Caught a Ride

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By including Ken Helman in this set, I am throwing something of a curveball. Helman’s have the urge to cry, but they don’t want anyone to know. The performances are emotionally powerful. In his day job, Helman is a voice coach, and based on this album, I would go to him if I wanted to sing opera, musical theater, or R&B. Caught a Ride beautifully shows off Helman’s gifts as a songwriter. It is not immediately clear what is going on. That’s because the narrator is trying to hold his feelings in, and naming the situation would make that impossible. I won’t provide a spoiler here, because the song is well worth discovering on its own terms. But I will note the mention of “his boyfriend”, when we meet the main character. In discussing gender roles, does this sexual orientation make a difference?

Final thoughts: Female singers perform songs written by men, and vice versa, all the time. Sometimes, a few words of the lyric must be changed, but not always. Even with out changing a word, however, the meaning of the song can sometimes change, depending on the gender of the singer. The most important thing, I think, is that, for me at least, both last week and this week’s songs ring true emotionally.

For a Song: A Tree On Allenford

Rickie Lee Jones: A Tree on Allenford

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Rickie Lee Jones first burst on the scene with Chuck E’s in Love, an infectious bit of folk-pop that was a huge hit. But, with her second album Pirates, Jones began dismantling her popularity, while wowing the critics. I would describe her music from then on as a pop/ art song hybrid. The lyrics have been poetic, and the arrangements have sometimes stretched the usual song structures beyond recognition. The orchestrations and the use of dynamic shifts have showed Jones to be a truly original artist. Only most of this works, but when it does, the results are spectacular.

Consider A Tree on Allenford. The first thing you hear is an English horn, soon to be joined by a clarinet. Later there is a harmonica playing what almost sounds like an accordion part. So the overall sound is like a slightly off kilter cabaret song. On top of this, Jones delivers a beautiful lyric. Her narrator sees flowers left at the base of a tree, in remembrance, probably, of a child who died there. This leads to a meditation on the notion that everyone and everything is loved by at least one other person. So this is a love song, but not in the usual sense. You notice all of the unusual qualities, but they all serve the song beautifully. Rickie Lee Jones is blonde, plays guitar and piano, and is influenced by jazz music. So she got compared to Joni Mitchell a lot when she first came on the scene. By the time Jones recorded A Tree on Allenford, the comparison was clearly absurd. Instead, Jones is a true original, and one of our finest songwriters and musicians.

Trout Fishing in America - Lookin’ at Lucky

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I would imagine that many of my readers know that Trout Fishing in America is one the finest kid’s music acts you will ever hear. But their new album is Lookin’ at Lucky, and it is their first album for grownups in a dozen years. To make their kid’s music, Keith Grimwood and Ezra Idlet must think like kids. The music must have a strong rhythmic sense, and be fairly straightforward. The words need to have a fine feel for what is important to kids, and there must be warmth and good humor. Scolding and, more broadly, anger, must be suppressed. And Trout Fishing does all of this beautifully, and makes music that also appeals to parents. So what happens when these skills are applied to music intended for those parents and other grownups?

The music here retains that strong sense of rhythm, but the structures loosen up a little at times. There is the occasional guitar solo here, although there is no threat to Eric Clapton. Trout has always featured mainly acoustic instruments, but here they plug in a little more often. And there are a few bluesy numbers, which probably wouldn’t happen in their kid’s music. The warmth and good humor carry over, but the subjects change. On Lookin’ at Lucky, there are a couple of hurting songs, with even some anger in them. Subtlety is perhaps the one quality that makes the hardest transition here, but even that is here on a couple of songs.

Lookin’ at Lucky, the song, is the opening track, and it draws the listener in with its beat. The song is an expression of the exuberance of a new love, and it works beautifully. Then comes She’s the Only Smile. This is one of the subtle songs. It begins with a narrator admiring a woman who is the only one smiling on a dance floor. Somewhere as you go along, you find that the narrator has joined her on the floor, and now there are two smiles out there. There was a third one on my face as I listened. Later there is the song Home, a ballad that expresses love beautifully.

So far, there is nothing new here. The emotions here have all been expressed before, and the lyrics are not extraordinary. But they are delivered with warmth and honesty, and that keeps you listening. Who Knows What We Might Do is another matter. This is a song about adults not “acting their age”, and Keith and Ezra don’t see this as a problem. Not Every Dream may be the most personal song on the album, This one describes love as something delicate and precious, and it has a suitably delicate arrangement, with a great fiddle part by Jenee Fleenor. I mentioned that there are bluesy grooves on the album, and I Pretend to Understand is my favorite of these. The lyric looks at a coping mechanism that may not be the best idea, Who knows what this narrator may have agreed to? This strikes me as another example of a song that only Keith and Ezra could have written. The Car’s Running and My Baby Loves Sudoku are two songs where Trout’s sense of humor comes out; both songs feel kind of like their kid’s songs, but address subjects that only apply to adults.

My wife and I were very happy many years ago when we found the music of Trout Fishing in America. It gave us something that first my daughter and now my son would ask for that we also enjoyed. I’m very happy to know that Keith and Ezra also make fine music just for us. To be honest though, I suspect that the kids will enjoy it too, and there’s nothing here I wouldn’t be comfortable playing with them present.

Trout Fishing in America: Not Every Dream

Trout Fishing in America: I Pretend to Understand

Women’s Music?

I haven’t kept track recently. Do they still consider “women’s music” as a musical genre unto itself? The category arose in the 1970s, as a response to the feminist movement. You don’t generally hear of “men’s music”, but there it was. The idea was supposed to be that this was music that affirmed a woman’s identity as a woman, and served as a reaffirmation. I can see the value of that. But the label “women’s music” became something that was applied to a lot of music that wasn’t really very good, and probably wouldn’t have been released otherwise. It also meant that the good “women’s music” that came out wasn’t being heard by a male audience that might well have enjoyed it.

If you look over my reviews and Spotlights, you will see that I post a lot of music by women, possibly more than by men. I am a man, but I don’t like certain things that are considered male attributes. Music that is aggressive, or threatens violence in anger, probably won’t make it here. I believe that conflicts should be settled by an open discussion of feelings whenever possible. (Let me add that I am not angel, and I can’t always resolve the conflicts in my own life in the manner I would like.) So maybe that leads me more to the music by women than would otherwise happen. But to me, “women’s music” should be for the widest possible audience of both genders, and should simply be music that is made by women, and represents an honest account of their feelings. Could the songs in this post have been done by men? I will leave that question to my readers and listeners.

Joan Shelley: The Buzzard Song

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Joan Shelley’s album By Dawnlight can best be described as Americana. There are songs with a bluegrass flavor, outright rockers, and gorgeous country flavored ballads. But The Buzzard Song is a wonderful bluesy piece with a desert wind blowing through it. The song describes a dieing relationship with an eloquent metaphor, and it all works perfectly. Shelley shows herself to be a wonderfully emotional writer and singer. By Dawnlight is her debut, and I look forward to following her career from here.

Laurie McClain: He Smiled Like an Angel

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I don’t know the full story behind the song He Smiled Like an Angel, but there are ample clues. Laurie McClain’s brother Danny evidently died too young, and, on the album Ascend, McClain works through her feelings. Sometimes, she needs distraction, and she thinks of happier things for a song or two. There are songs where her sorrow appears to spill over into other parts of her life. And there are a number of songs where McClain turns to her faith, seeking comfort. Mourning doesn’t happen in a straight line, and the album as a whole feels very real. He Smiled Like an Angel is one of those songs that puts a lump in my throat. In a dream, McClain sees her brother in the afterlife, and receives the assurance that he has gone to a better place. The song is beautifully realized, and there was never any question in my mind about which song to post from this album.

Emma Hill: Doctor

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On the album Clumsy Seduction, Emma Hill wrestles with issues of addiction. Singing in a smoky alto that sometimes reaches into the soprano range in a cry of pain, many of the songs here sound like a cry for help. The songs tend to start with just Hill’s voice and guitar, and the sound is thin. But the rest of the instruments join in bit by bit, and the songs gather strength. On some songs, this takes quite some time. This technique allows Hill’s narrators to try to break out of their situations. As with McClain’s album, progress does not come in a straight line, and the music waxes and wanes in the space of a single song. Doctor gets this done faster than some of the songs, and it shows just how powerful this technique is. Throughout the album, Hill also displays a wonderful imagination with the musical textures she creates. This one will grow on you.

Julie Peel: Unfold

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By my count, Julie Peel plays 11 different instruments on her album Near the Sun. This includes various types of simple keyboard fills and even kazoo on one song, but she also shows a real talent on piano and almost anything with strings. She also has great support on drums, stand up bass, and cello. This allows her to create a wonderful variety of musical textures. But none of that is for show. Near the Sun is a collection of heartbreak songs, and Unfold is a perfect example of how Peel gets this across. The rhythm section sets up a heartbeat, and Peel sings over that, with the emotion of her vocal enhanced by commentary from the cello. It all works beautifully, and Peel’s words say all they have to. The song is mournful, but the lyric is understated in a way that makes it that much more powerful.

Janey Todd: How Much?

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When I reviewed George Wirth’s album The Last Good Kiss, I praised his talent for songwriting. There was only one song on the album that Wirth did not write, and that was Dreamland by Janey Todd. Wirth obviously felt that Todd’s song was good enough to stand alongside his own. That’s high praise, and I agree with it. Here are eleven more songs that prove that Dreamland was no fluke. Alcatraz is a tall tale with a skewed sense of humor. Whistle Dixie is a saucy kiss-off. Elsewhere, there are songs of relationships gone awry. Throughout, Todd speaks her mind, and doesn’t worry about who she might offend. She sees the world in her own way, and it’s a fascinating place. The music ranges from folk-rock to rock, and Todd has a great feel for what each song needs. Her voice sometimes reminds me of Michelle Shocked in her perkier moments, and sometimes of Lou Reed at his most melodic. It works beautifully. How Much? shows off her technique well, and as happens throughout this album, the emotion comes through loud and clear.

For a Song: Show Biz Kids

Steely Dan: Show Biz Kids

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Popular wisdom has it that Steely Dan was the duo of Donald Fagen and Walter Becker. At the beginning, there was a regular band around them, even including another lead singer. But very soon, the line-up began to change, and kept changing, so that, in the end, the only constants were Becker and Fagen. In any case, they were the songwriters, and the line-up changes were mostly about them trying to find the right musicians to realize their musical vision.

That’s all the popular wisdom, but it leaves out the third member of Steely Dan. He had no hand in the songwriting, and he never played a note on their albums, but Steely Dan doesn’t sound right without him. This “third member” didn’t come back for the reunion albums, Two Against Nature and Everything Must Go. You can hear the difference his absence makes. I enjoy many moments from these two albums, but I consider them to be Becker/ Fagen albums. The missing third member was producer Gary Katz. He was the one who found and hired all of those jazz musicians who would become such an important part of the classic Steely Dan sound.

Now listen to Show Biz Kids. The songwriting is the equal of anything Steely Dan ever did. The song dates from the early days, when the members of the supporting band had mostly rock backgrounds. Even so, Katz found musicians who could reach for the sound Becker and Fagen wanted. I can hear in my head how the song would have sounded if it had been recorded for the album Aja, but even this way, it is immediately recognizable as a Steely Dan song. And that is not as true of those late albums, no matter how good they may be.