Carole King – The Essential Carole King

Legacy Recordings

Were you to take a random sampling of the average music listener and say to them: “Quick, hum a few bars of 'One Fine Day.' Now, "(You Make Me Feel) Like A Natural Woman.' Great. Now who wrote them?" Chances are most people could belt out the entire tune for you right on the spot but few would be able to identify Carole King as the songwriter.

Partially, this phenomenon has to do with how we view musicians. We love the sparkly, charismatic lead singer but care less about the bass player keeping the beat, and even less about the person who created the music in the first place. Celebrity culture loves performers, not writers. But this also has to do with what we think of songwriters when we do give them a few moments consideration. The average Joe you had asked about the songwriter might take a stab at it: Bernie Taupin? Neil Diamond? Not many of us can pinpoint who wrote the pop songs we love, but we often assume it’s a man behind the curtain.

This collection will blow you away. The Essential Carole King is divided into The Singer and The Songwriter giving us a huge sampling of King’s catalogue. The first CD is perfect reflective, comforting music to turn on after a long day at work. Admittedly, songs like "The Reason" (yes, a duet with Celine Dion) and "Sweet Seasons" cross the line into “easy listening” and make you wonder if King was just sort of churning out radio-friendly tunes. But hey, we’ve all got to make a pay check. Not to worry, classics like "I Feel the Earth Move" and "You’ve Got A Friend" are the bread and butter of this collection, a perfect compilation of unpretentious well-crafted lyrics and unique but catchy piano riffs.

If anything, the problem with this album is that The Songwriter CD can’t quite match the genius of the songs Carole performs herself. The dated-high pitched Monkees singing "Pleasant Valley Sunday" seem sort of silly after listening to "It’s Too Late," and The Everly Brothers crying in the rain isn’t anywhere as authentic as King singing "So Far Away." None the less, there are a lot of good quality songs here that most of us have heard on the radio a million times. Dusty Springfield’s "No Easy Way Down" is a welcome rediscovery.

Any serious music lover should own this collection. Next time you attend a wedding and "The Loco-Motion" inevitably comes on, you can shimmy up to your fellow dancers and remind them this song was written by a female song-writing legend.

Review by Jennifer Burgess

Carrie Rodriguez - Live in Louisville

Luz Music

“Well you have it, you love it, now it’s your turn to shove it…I don’t want to play house anymore,” sings Carrie Rodriguez on her newly released live compilation album, Live in Louisville. Her soulful voice, accompanied by rousing fiddles, makes her point with grace and force. The tunes on the album come from Rodriguez’ various other projects, but the most colorful are those she takes the credit for writing.

“I Don’t Want to Play House Anymore,” “Seven Angles on a Bicycle,” (from the album of the same name), and “Never Gonna Be Your Bride” are among the more upbeat sounds on the album, but that doesn’t mean the rest are purely maudlin. The slower tracks on the album are as much soulful as they are haunting.

The eclectic sounds of her band would put her solidly in an Americana, that amalgam of roots music that revisions country, folk, and blues, but the unique twists and turns of her voice bridge the renewed attention to the genre with more traditional bluegrass and even the more sentimental songwriting of Jewel, Indigo Girls, and Julie Roberts (of country fame).

There is an element of the unexpected in each song, whether it’s a musical bridge or a turn of phrase, and the dusky sound of Rodriguez’s voice seems to make her the perfect candidate for a closing credits track on HBO’s True Blood—a new Grey’s Anatomy of sorts for launching the hottest new music.

Rodriguez can please the country in you while reminding you through her pertinent lyrics that you’re alive, you share in disasters and joys like the rest of us. And just as you’re ready to dismiss one track as too country or too slow, the next places you squarely in New Orleans among an impromptu fiddle fest or back into a dark, dank bar with a lonely mic.

Live in Louisville's variety—in voice and vision—is well worth a listen.

Review by Dr. Julie E. Ferris

Owen Pallett - Heartland

Domino Records

Former Final Fantasy mastermind Owen Pallett’s voice is one of my favorites in music right now. On Heartland’s opening song, “Midnight Directives,” it floats alongside the violin lines, reaching high and stretching across the track, taking it in beautiful directions that both fit and conflict beautifully with the insistent drums and electronic elements. The song ends abruptly, and the next, “Keep the Dog Quiet,” begins as abruptly, with a staccato string line and quiet maraca accompaniment.

Heartland is noisier and more electronic than any previous Final Fantasy album, which makes sense given the experimental nature of the project. Pallett wrote Heartland as an opera about a peasant named Lewis, who is ordered by his God (named Owen, no less) to lead a revolt. Pallett posted all the lyrics to Heartland online in October 2009, giving fans months to pour over the poetry of the words before hearing them set to music.

The girl-group inspired melody in “Lewis Takes Action” directly conflicts with the violence in the lyrics: “I took No-Face by his beak and broke his jaw, he’ll never speak again.” “The Great Elsewhere” is a beautiful song that ends in a crisis of faith about “the indifferences of the Storyteller.” Heartland is not only beautiful to listen to, but a joy to unfold and interpret the world Pallett has created in this album.

The album ends with a question: “What Do You Think Will Happen Now?” Pallett absolutely succeeds at keeping the listener thoroughly engaged, but always with that question of marvelous uncertainty. If you like your indie music literary and elusive, Heartland is a challenge and a delight.

Review by Dana Reinoos

Christy and Emily - No Rest

Klangbad

Brooklyn songstress roommates, longtime collaborators, and bestie brunettes Christy Edwards and Emily Manzo have hipster cred out the wazoo. So do loads of other borough-based bands, but few have the raw talent of these two singer-songwriter women—a label that hardly defines the true depth of their talent. Their music, at times hauntingly sparse, reverberates with their lush voices and minimal instrumentation, often just Christy’s guitar or Emily’s keyboard. Sound cloying? The opposite is true. There is nothing pretentious or difficult about this album.

On No Rest, their second release this year, the gals focus on teasing out their folk influences, veering away from their psychedelic roots. At the same time, they maintain their sound experimentation and focus less on complicated lyrics. Lines like “Why not live a life of truth/Like your siblings” could be as autobiographical as they could be creative poetry put to music. No matter that their words are uncomplicated; every sound out of their mouths is truly beautiful, and there is additional beauty in simplicity.

“Idle Hands” has some of the best rhythmic composition on the album and draws to mind a more serious Girls Guitar Club, starting Christy and Emily instead of Karen Kilgariff & Mary Lynn Rajskub.

“Here Comes the Water Now” is a nod to natural disaster—and how unfortunately timely. The nearly rhyming lyrics—which pay off at the end—kept me fully engaged with the story as well as the music.

You’re gonna have to leave your home
You’re gonna have to go and roam
Wanna know why, I wanna know how
Here comes the water

Better decide on what to bring
Take a look around at everything
There’s only so much time will allow
Here comes the water... now

Closing track “Amaryllis”—which is coincidentally my favorite flower—uses the annual as a metaphor for periods of light and darkness. If you’ve never cared for these bulbous houseplants, just know that they’re like any other bulb. After blooming in the spring, they require months of darkness during the winter. In my experience, this typically means putting them in a large paper bag and tucking them in a dark corner until the springtime frost has vanished. C&E no doubt like these big horn-shaped flowers, as they’ve dedicated a whole song to them and sing, “Oh how lovely the plant you keep in the dark.”

From the album’s opening line—“I’m not scared of what I can’t see anymore”—to the sonic waves, gorgeous vocals, and wind chime-type sound effects, this album will mesmerize you. Let it.

Review by Brittany Shoot

Voice of an Angel: Talking to Jill Andrews

By Tina Vasquez

When I first spoke to singer Jill Andrews, I was quite shocked when she first answered the phone. Her voice was low, slow, and groggy, which wasn’t what I was expecting. You see, Andrews quite literally has the voice of an angel.

As it turned out, I was waking her up from a peaceful nap with her infant son, Nico. Nico was born around the time that Andrews’ critically acclaimed, Tennessee-based band, The Everybodyfields, broke up. She and her band were part of a growing wave of young musicians emerging from the south who are meshing the music of their region (country, bluegrass, and blues) with the music they grew up listening to (punk and indie rock) to create an interesting sound of their own. The Everybodyfields garnered a lot of attention early in their five-year career because of Andrews beautiful harmonizing with bandmate Sam Quinn and their constant touring with the increasingly popular Avett Brothers.

After the split, Andrews got to work creating music of her own, and recently released her first self-titled EP. No one can sing like Jill Andrews; no one can convey heartbreak and loneliness and aching pain like she can in just a single line. The EP is six songs of simple, pure, and heartfelt music, and though Andrews has a lot on her plate (a recent tour and her first child), she decided to release another six-track album recorded live at Eddie's Attic in Decatur, Georgia to benefit the International Rescue Committee and help the earthquake survivors in Haiti.

Who were your musical influences growing up?

My first tape was Diana Ross, and I wore that tape out when I was a kid. I have to say, though, that my first huge musical influence was Bette Midler. When I got to high school, I was really into folk music and started listening to things that weren’t on the radio, like The Jayhawks and Wilco. I was also really into Joni Mitchell.

A lot of what I started listening to in high school was influenced by my surroundings and where I came from. Living in the mountains of Tennessee influences the music we listened to, and the mountains were the perfect backdrop it. The music I like most now is the type of music I write and play. I like really emotional music. When I listen to songs, I want to feel something. I want to dirty dance or cry my eyes out.

When did you realize you wanted to be a musician?

I can remember always wanting to be famous, but my parents tell a different story. We always went to this donut shop together, and when I was a really little kid, my dad asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up. I said a donut waitress. In high school I was in youth choir, school choir, and church choir, and all of my instructors were really supportive and made sure that I knew my voice was going to be heard.

When did you meet Sam Quinn?

Around the same time I started playing guitar, I went to summer camp. Sam was a camp counselor, and he asked me to sing a song, so I put on a cheesy karaoke tape and sang to it. I’m sure he thought I was crazy. After the first week of camp, I realized I really needed a guitar because everyone who had a guitar sucked. I knew if I practiced I could be good at it. I’m sure I made a fool of myself at first, but I began writing songs immediately after getting my guitar.

What do you hope people take from your music?

I’ve always been into helping people. I was a psychology major in college, and I worked with kids who had behavioral issues, but I quit to pursue music full-time. For a long time I struggled with the decision because being a singer seemed too egocentric. Every night the spotlight was shining on me. I got all dressed up and it was kind of like, “Hey, look at me!” I’ve since made peace with it, though. Music helps the emotional state of the world. People need music, and I need to keep making music for the sake of my own well being, so it all works out in the end.