(MS)
In Andrew Wyeth's 1948 painting "Christina's World", his subject is settled on the prairie peering longingly towards a homestead in the near distance.
A disconnected barn signals isolated farm-life, the great
outdoors and a world hidden from the grinding cogs of men. There is a heavy
atmosphere of entrapment and … something unsettling in the air. And the subject
of the painting and clue to the title reveals all, for the woman was crippled
with a muscular problem and preferred to crawl than use a wheelchair. The portrait
literally frames the frontiers of her world, physically endured through the palms
of calloused hands and legs, dragged torturously over needles of sheared corn. Years
later the subtle tragedy of the image was gloriously defiled by the makers of
the Texas Chain Saw Massacre in an eye-catching poster that explicitly
connected the otherworldliness of backwoods life with schlock horror. And such is the dark continental interior of gothic Americana.
In
an act of sublime sequencing (the much neglected root of auteur album construction)
the song Nothing Lasts is preceded by an acapella piece of Xian-folk Shepherd
of the Mountain where she invites the afore-mentioned to spiritually enter her
body. In the context of the
preceding sweet yet mournful songs it lands like a celestial visitation and echoing
as from a cave, heavily sets up the blissful Sermon from the Mount that
follows. Nothing Lasts oozes into the ears with sweetly strummed acoustic
guitars and an amplified upright bass bubbling around the soundscape. The piano
seems to be deliberately underplayed dancing like spiders on velvet drapes and
half-way through delivers the most minimal and devastating eight note solo
ever heard. The lyric is wise and impressive, “Forget the past, nothing lasts”
repeats throughout, each time seemingly delivered with an ever so slightly enhanced
fervour. It’s all things must pass-forever changes mantra is both life
affirming and humbling. During the recording George C Scott was filming
“Patton” with its famous line “For over a thousand years Roman
conquerors returning from the wars enjoyed the honour of triumph…A slave stood behind the conqueror, holding a golden crown,
and whispering in his ear a warning: that all glory is fleeting”. It could have
been used on billboards to promote this record. It should be used on billboards
now.
Some wish.
(JS)
The penultimate
track of singer songwriter’s Karen Beth’s debut. A saddish song accompanied
with a mixture of folk and electric guitar, with a voice that’s not quite as
strong as the material demands. This essential mismatch is the foundation of
the artist's appeal. Strong musical arrangements, sad detectable, but ambiguous
lyrics, not ambiguous enough to be universal, but appearing to detail some
personal romantic tarmac, but recorded in a sufficiently diffuse style to
negate voyeurism. But the voice is a church voice, not a rock voice, she evokes
emotion but not necessarily empathy. This is one of the sadder songs on the
collection The Joys of Life, and is presumably intended as some kind of
counterpoint to the happier themes explored in the other songs presented.
(PS)
After a few listens of Karen Beth I
can’t quite make up my mind whether I rather like her or find her faintly
irritating.
On the one hand, there’s something
about her music which makes me think of one of my folk heroes, Nick Drake: the
gentle caressing feel of the nylon strung acoustic guitar; the all-too-subtle
double bass softly bobbing around (actually this echoed Astral Weeks for me a
bit too); the simple piano chiming which made me think of One of These Things
First from Bryter Layter; the wistful lyrics which suggest melancholia and
optimism in equal measure…
And then there’s the marmite voice,
which reminded me of a friend from years ago who couldn’t abide Drake because
of his singing style – something I could never understand – but I do get a
sense of that here. At times the melody seems to get stuck in a recess of
Beth’s throat, then it almost sounds like someone attempting a feeble Bee Gees
impression.
There’s nothing particularly
remarkable about the song structure, with its simple strummed chords; although
the chromatic arpeggios on the piano halfway through add drama and
interest.
I may well find myself changing my
mind after further listens and this could turn out to be a bit of a grower; but
at the moment I can’t quite get past that voice.
