Maria McKee's Solo Career: Phase One

To say that Maria McKee's solo career didn't receive the recognition it deserved would be an understatement.  After the dissolution of Lone Justice in 1986, McKee released six solo albums as well as several compilations and live shows.  She performed on Saturday Night Live, wrote and contributed songs for blockbuster movies and cult classics that include "Show Me Heaven" from Days of Thunder (1990) and "If Love is a Red Dress" from Pulp Fiction (1994).  The solo albums were ignored by critics, for the most part, earning consistent three to four star reviews from Allmusic and Rolling Stone while McKee toured and appeared on national television several times to promote her records.

Later in her career, she gave shows on short notice at small clubs across the country where few people even knew her name.  After spending most of the advances from the Lone Justice records, McKee admitted in a 2006 interview that the high point of her career was "being able to make any kind of music I want to in the world...Of course I'll never be rich and famous, but if I can make a living and keep making records, I'm in the one percentile, because not many people can do that anymore."

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Maria McKee (1989, Geffen Records)

Although somewhat overproduced in the smooth style of the late '80s and early '90s, Maria McKee represented a transformation from struggling country rock front woman to confident band leader and principal songwriter.  McKee's vocals are flawless and unrestrained on this record, but only about half of the songs demand repetition.    By the end of the album, the scribbled slate of McKee's career had been wiped clean, allowing her to put Lone Justice and all of the pressure that came with it behind.

In a 2007 interview with Paste, she said that the music of Lone Justice was simply the closest she had been able to come in the search for her ideal sound.  She stated, “I always felt a little bit confined by the roots thing, because it’s not really my personality.  I’m not like some hayseed; I never really was. Lone Justice was a passion for me because I was searching for white soul music that I could sing without feeling guilty.”

In an interview with Adios Lounge, she admitted the reason for her change in style and break from Lone Justice:
“After that I just felt like, ‘This is a lie, this isn’t a band. I’m just gonna go solo, fuck it.’ So, that’s when I ditched the band name and kind of did a reactionary left turn from the whole arena rock thing and made a very quiet, sort of mature record. Which I love, I love that record.”               

Two of the songs on this album define McKee as an artist: "I've Forgotten What it Was in You (that Put the Need in Me)" and "Am I the Only One (Who's Ever Felt this Way)".  The looping rhythm guitar in the background of "I've Forgotten" reminds me of the backing riff in "Shelter," and McKee tells of an honest brand of guilt that stems from a loss of interest in a romantic partner.  "Am I the Only One" tells the reverse side of the story by wrapping lyrics tightly around the melody: the story of the partner who "lent my soul to love, and it paid me back in change."  The final song I'll touch upon from Maria McKee is "Panic Beach," which must have been inspired by Bruce Springsteen's "4th of July, Asbury Park (Sandy)" because of the way both songs make caricatures of local inhabitants and equate the beach as a place of both opportunity and loss.  Loosely jangling guitars and theatrical dynamic shifts make both songs sound like twisted, urban fairy tales.  

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You Gotta Sin to Get Saved (1993, Geffen Records)

On her second solo album, McKee reunited with former bandmates Marvin Etzioni, Don Heffington, and former boyfriend Benmont Tench and finally struck a balance between slick production and the rootsy Americana sound Lone Justice was known for.  The album included a couple songs written solely by McKee, including the soaring anthem of a young soul approaching middle age, "My Girlhood Among the Outlaws".   The album also included two obscure Van Morrison covers.  One, "My Lonely Sad Eyes," was from his days with his early Irish band Them.  I've always loved that song-- the cascade of notes in the introduction reminds me of a glass of champagne-- the "sparkling wine" alluded to in the opening verse; I used to run to it in the summers at my cottage, so it also reminds me of sun drenched evenings by the lake.  The other, "The Way Young Lovers Do," is from Van Morrison's critically acclaimed 1968 album Astral Weeks.  After listening to McKee's interpretations, I realized that her voice is probably the closest female counterpart to Van Morrison's effortless and nearly trance like style.  Arguably the strongest track on the album is "I Can't Make it Alone," which was written by Brill Building hitmakers Carole King and Gerry Goffin.  The opening line describes the arc of McKee's career: "Now you know me/you know how proud I am.  And what I've got to tell you/won't be easy to say."

The album was (by McKee's standards) heavily promoted and earned the best reviews of any album over the course of her career.  However, like her previous releases, the triumphant album failed to make her the star many people still believed she had the potential to become.

Phase Two of McKee's solo career began with an unexpected transition into the world of alternative glam rock and, eventually, acting in and writing songs for her husband's independent films.  Stay tuned for the next post, which will be coming soon.

The Lone Justice Saga

This is the first in a series of posts that will look back on bands and artists that should have hit the mainstream but never did.  In a sense, this series will delve into the positive and negative aspects of commercial failure as well as the consequences of being thrust into the spotlight by premature industry hype.  Lone Justice toured with U2, was highly touted by Rolling Stone, Dave Stewart, Annie Lennox, Linda Ronstadt, Dolly Parton, and Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers, among others.  Rising quickly from humble beginnings in Los Angeles, Lone Justice lasted only two albums and four years.  But they are the best little band everybody forgot about (or never even heard of).

youtube.com (user: selinakyle)

Lone Justice began as a duo composed of singer/guitarist Maria McKee and guitarist Ryan Hedgecock.  After the couple added Marvin Etzioni on bass and Don Heffington on drums, a following gathered at popular Los Angeles Clubs each time the band played their signature cowpunk covers and originals.  "What the hell is cowpunk?"  you may be wondering.  Cowpunk, a relative of rockabilly, is a fast-paced fusion of traditional country with deviant rock.  Lone Justice built a following at the legendary Whiskey a Go Go (here is a really excellent article on the Whiskey's history, if you're interested) and The Palomino when McKee was still a teenager.

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McKee's half brother, Brian MacLean, was a guitarist and songwriter in critically acclaimed '60s rock  band Love and also wrote one of my favorite Lone Justice tracks, Don't Toss Us Away, which appeared on LJ's self-titled debut album.  It's difficult to pull off a heartbreak song and still sound strong live, but McKee's vocal is focused and flawless, even live.

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The group's signing with notoriously artist-centric Geffen Records drew the input of many top names in the industry.  Jimmy Iovine, who has worked with Bruce Springsteen, Stevie Nicks, Tom Petty, and U2, produced the album and Steven VanZandt, of Springsteen's legendary E Street Band, co-wrote the second single, Sweet, Sweet Baby (I'm Falling).  After Hedgecock, McKee was dating Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers' keyboardist Benmont Tench, who contributed piano, organ, and background vocals to the album in addition to co-writing slow burning rocker "Sweet, Sweet Baby" with VanZandt and McKee.  Tom Petty and Mike Campbell, also of the Hearbreakers, wrote the first single, Ways to be Wicked, which perfectly suited McKee's style at the time.  McKee gave a raw and powerful voice to women everywhere--her extreme ability to control a strong and dynamic voice allowed her to sing everything from country to hard rock to sentimental ballads.  Marvin Etzioni was no slouch either--the bassist wrote three tracks including the electrifying album opener East of Eden.  Sounds like a recipe for success, right? 

Wrong.  Despite a marketing campaign rivaling the hype surrounding Beatlemania, the debut flopped, only reaching number 56 on the Billboard 200.  Reviews were mostly positive, and live shows were always outstanding, so why did Lone Justice fail commercially?  Perhaps they were marketed wrong, or else the energy of their lives shows could simply not be captured in the studio.  With Iovine producing and with contributions from Petty and VanZandt, the sound they grew into on the debut was more rock oriented than the material they played while building a following in Los Angeles, and production definitely smoothed out their familiar sound a bit.  However, I think the production choices were decent because they allowed the group to choose a direction while maintaining most of their artistic integrity.  If not for the hype, LJ could have gone down in history as a modestly successful and influential band.  But because neither the record nor the singles broke into the rock or country top ten, the endeavor was over before barely beginning.  Should the label have marketed the group more heavily to country radio?  That strategy probably wouldn't have helped sales either, because not even country was popular in the mid eighties--synth pop was king and there was no room for a band as audaciously unrestrained as Lone Justice.  

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After the tour with U2, Etzioni, Hedgecock, and Heffington left the band and McKee enlisted keyboardist Bruce Brody, guitarist Shayne Fontayne (who also worked briefly with Bruce Springsteen and Joe Cocker), drummer Rudy Richman (who went on tour for Springsteen's album Human Touch), and bassist Greg Sutton.   Although technically speaking, the second incarnation of the band was superior to the original, pared down lineup, the follow up album paled in comparison to the debut.

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Rolling Stone music critic Jimmy Guterman described 1986's Shelter accurately when he noted, ""That (the album) falls short of the debut says more about the unstudied brilliance of the first album than the few shortcomings on this one."  Although I enjoyed shelter, (aside from the cover, which looks like a creepy collage on the wall of a dentist office's restroom), I agree with Guterman's statement.  Topping Lone Justice would be a difficult feat with the same lineup.  With a hodgepodge of new faces surrounding McKee, the personality of the band wasn't the same.  The new sound was glossier in an attempt to gather followers from rock's mainstream.  Although Iovine and Van Zandt produced, the change in sound must have been a conscious decision, although McKee herself was alright with how the album sold.  The following is a quote from a 1993 article in the LA Times:

"I was OK with the sales because my whole concept was slow growth anyway . . . which is what all my heroes had gone through--from X to Springsteen," McKee recalls. "But everyone else . . . they didn't freak out, but it was like, 'This isn't exactly what we had planned.' "

In the same article, McKee also admitted, "Marvin was gone, Don was gone, Ryan was gone, and it wasn't Lone Justice anymore. The fact that the album was called Lone Justice is ludicrous."

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"Shelter," the album's first US single, peaked at #47 on the Billboard Hot 100 and the album only reached #65 on the Billboard 200.  Steven VanZandt played a bigger role on Shelter than he did on the debut in both songwriting in production, although McKee wrote or co-wrote all of the album's songs.  "Shelter" was the strongest track on the album, but most of the other songs fell victim to synthesizers,  generic '80s production, and the black hole of back to back midtempo ballads.  Don't get me wrong, I am a huge fan of synths, when used artistically (like Prince's "Little Red Corvette"), but the intensity and lyrical strength of Lone Justice's first batch of songs had no problem standing alone.  Synths and updated production dampened the band's originality, diffused attention away from McKee's voice, and succeeded in turning early fans away.  "I Found Love" was one of the more organic efforts on the album but far more repetitive and indistinct than the songs Lone Justice was discovered for.  

McKee decided to break up the band after a brief tour in support of Shelter in order to focus on solo work.  Sadly, there are no official live releases featuring the original lineup, but I found BBC Radio 1 Live in Concert at Amoeba Records in Los Angeles, and the second lineup was definitely on top of their game then, playing old and new songs as well as the definitive cover of Lou Reed's "Sweet Jane" which I mentioned in a previous post.  Lone Justice still has a cult following, and McKee went on to a modestly successful solo career, which I will discuss next time.  Thanks for reading!  Oh, and The Vaught Tapes, an archive of the band's 1983 recordings with engineer David Vaught, will be released on January 14th, 2014.  Here's a little teaser.

Upcoming entries:
Maria McKee's solo career
The Life of the Waterboys

Laura Nyro
Sinead O'Connor

Album Review: Sky Ferreira's Night Time, My Time

Lately, I have been exploring the world of indie pop, which led me to Haim and has now led me to Sky Ferreira.  I believe that the genre with the highest quality music right now is a genre I call rock-based electronic pop, because it really is equally influenced by all three types of music.  What I like about the best artists in the genre is that they have actual talent.  I'm convinced that we're in the midst of a large musical shift that is centered in the United States (although the English have always been better at recognizing decent songs).  All of the Haim sisters are multi-instrumentalists who can seriously shred guitars and nail three part harmonies.  Sky Ferreira may have been discovered first as a model, but she will be remembered as a singer.  Here is my review of her debut album Night Time, My Time that I wrote for the Aquinas Saint:

image: theguardian.com

Sky Ferreira lights up the darkness

                Sky Ferreira has plenty of critics who refuse to accept her as a serious musical artist.  She made a name for herself as a model, and her name recently splattered across headlines for a drug arrest in New York while driving with her boyfriend, model and indie rocker Zachary Cole Smith.  But, as they say, haters are going to hate, and with her debut album Night Time, My Time, which was released on October 29, Ferreira has taken another step towards proving them wrong. 

                The 21-year old, who is “always anxious,” as she revealed in an interview with Bullett magazine, crafts surprisingly self-assured electro-pop songs that are edgy but comfortably familiar and modern, like a brand new pair of distressed jeans.  Although nothing on the album breaks new ground from a songwriting perspective, Night Time, My Time is an impressive effort from a singer who already knows the ropes of a music industry just as punishing as the modeling world.

                “You’reNot the One,” the first single, is a revelatory declaration of assertion at the end of a relationship.  The album encompasses both lows and highs of relationships, and Ferreira has a way of making even her struggles sound triumphant and motivating.  A breezy guitar loop soars above the dense synthesizer heartbeats on “You’re Not the One” and elevates the song above the likes of Lorde’s “Royals” and other hits from upcoming pop artists. 

                Ferreira’s voice is urgent and powerful, capturing the essence of her night owl lifestyle.  “24 Hours” begins with an alarm clock and explodes into a relaxed, churning groove immediately.  Drums give wings to Ferreira’s longing as she sings, “for 24 hours, you’re still mine,” and “there’s no tomorrow without you.”  Such lyrics could easily come across as overwrought or self-pitying, but Ferreira completely gives her voice to each word she sings, which lends the elegy undeniable honesty. 

                “NobodyAsked Me” is another highlight that showcases Ferreira’s ability to make vulnerability empowering.  Driven by refreshingly organic guitars, the song evolves into an alternative rocker with all the angst of early Avril Lavigne melded with the refined cool and smooth vocals of Blondie’s Debbie Harry.  The throwback vibe on the live version of “Nobody” is enhanced by the fact that Ferreira is a Harry lookalike who could easily play her in a biopic.  Ferreira never fails to drain all of the blood from her lyrics with the strength of her vocal control. 

                The title track closes the album and serves as a window into a haunting darkness not evident anywhere else on the album.  A dragging tempo, lethargic drum snaps, and an organ-based melody culminate in a state of dissonant paranoia.  The final song is a reminder of Ferreira’s life in the limelight just on the sane side of madness.  For the sake of all of her fans, I hope she stays that way. 

                                

Lou Reed: A Reflection

As all rock and roll aficionados have probably heard, Lou Reed died yesterday following complications of the liver transplant he underwent in May.  I am not a massive fan of Reed's solo work or his Velvet Underground material, but I appreciate his influence over future generations of folk and rock musicians looking to ignore genre categorizations and blur the lines between rock and jazz.  Lou Reed was in many ways like a latter day Picasso.  He was gifted with the ability to craft complex melodies and lyrics, but he disregarded popular music masquerading as realism in favor of abstract chord structures and sparse lyrics that were more like brush strokes than completed paintings.  Reed once said, "One chord is fine.  Two chords is pushing it.  Three chords and you're into jazz."

image: timeentertainment.files.wordpress.com

Reed played and wrote without fearing complete commercial failure.  His respective debuts with the Velvet Underground and as a solo artist failed to sell, but later gained massive cult recognition.  Mentor Andy Warhol persuaded Reed and company to record with sultry-voiced German actress and cultural icon Nico for the Velvet Underground's debut album, but because she was never truly accepted as a member of the band, the album was entitled The Velvet Underground and Nico (1967).  The original front cover even featured a peel-off banana sticker.  The album was a melancholy and haunting dive into New York's alternative subculture of the late '60s.

image: collectorsfrenzy.com

Three albums later, the band had grown much more radio-friendly with 1970's Loaded, which contained both "Sweet Jane" and "Rock and Roll."  Sweet Jane has one of the most endearing chord progressions in rock and roll (technically, the song includes FOUR chords) and has been covered more times than anyone can keep track of.  The lyrics are resoundingly life-affirming in the way they paint the human condition in vivid dichotomies.  For example, even though "life is just to die," "everyone who ever had a heart/they wouldn't turn around and break it/and anyone who ever played a part/oh wouldn't turn around and hate it."  Here are some of my favorite covers (although Reed's acerbic delivery reigns supreme):

Lone Justice (1986)

Mott the Hoople (1972)

Cowboy Junkies (1988)

The Kooks (2007, medley with "Beast of Burden")

Staying true to his pioneering nature, Reed quit the band a few months before the release of Loaded to pursue solo work.  His self titled solo debut flopped, so he turned to glam king David Bowie to produce his second, Transformer.  The album broke the U.S. top 30 on the strength of "Walk on the Wild Side," and "Perfect Day" (which was actually about a less than perfect day).

He went on to achieve his dream of writing "the great American novel in the form of a record album," a few times, reflecting the fleeting reality of his lifestyle in New York.  Reed was definitely a quotable man and a true artist at heart.  "How can anybody learn anything from an artwork when the piece of art only reflects the vanity of the artist and not reality?" wondered Reed.  Lou Reed was successful in capturing his reality, but only because he taught himself how to refuse to compromise at the most appropriate times.  

Song Review: The Saints-- "Just Like Fire Would"

There would be no Clash and no Sex Pistols if it weren't for the highly influential punk rock band The Saints.  The group, led by singer-songwriter Chris Bailey, could be viewed as Australia's answer to the Ramones. In fact, The Saints released the second ever "punk rock" single in 1976 with (I'm) Stranded.  Their sound eventually shifted to include more mainstream rock flavors, and by the time 1986 rolled around, their sound was barely recognizable.  All Fools Day was released in 1986, and the record includes "Just Like Fire Would," the single that finally helped propel the group into the U.S. market.  

image: www.recordsale.de

The opening guitar riff is an Australian national treasure, and the song sounds triumphant, but the lyrics paint a lonely portrait of an isolated man.  He sits in his hotel room, "eyes cast like steel," and "stays only to defy."  He speaks of the cold world outside before saying, "and just like fire would/I burn up."  The image is doubly powerful because "would" also projects an image of fire "wood" burning.  I'm not sure whether the proclamation is meant as an internal rallying cry (the warmth of the fire) or a death sentence (burning up into nothing).  I'm leaning towards the rallying cry.  Now, I'm not too religious, but I did take the "Bible as a Story" class for my theology credit.  Jeremiah 23:29 reads: "'Does not my word burn like fire?'  says the Lord, 'Is it not like a mighty hammer that smashes rock to pieces?'"  The song could be telling of a man who is grappling with some sort of moral or religious sin, and he must decide whether to attempt to move forward or do nothing and wait for the storm to come or pass.  

Meanwhile, time is passing too quickly, and life's a struggle:

Five hundred miles I have gone today

Tomorrow it's five hundred more

Outside my window the world passes by

It's stranger than a dream

The final stanza seems to question the existence of karma or even an afterlife, mired in the insignificance of each day.  Is day to day living worth the effort when death looms like "ice on the door?"

I go to work and I earn my pay load

And the sweat, it falls to the ground

I see you now, but we may never meet again, child

The ice is hanging on the door

But I can't leave you on that note.  If the will to thrive is strong enough, the tables can be turned and death becomes insignificant.  

Linda Ronstadt and Living in the USA

I finished Linda Ronstadt's memoir Simple Dreams in three days last week, and I was inspired to start listening to her albums again.  I know, I know, this is my second or third post about Linda Ronstadt, but she's in my top five artists of all time, so I can't help it!  I have this CD box set of five of her Asylum albums.  Unfortunately, Heart Like a Wheel was not included because it was released on Capitol Records.  That situation was actually kind of interesting (prepare for a brief tangent here).

In order to get out of the rest of her contract with Capitol in order to sign with Asylum, Ronstadt's management worked out a deal that allowed her to immediately record one album with Asylum if the next album went to Capitol.  After that, she could continue to record for Asylum.  The arrangement was guaranteed to benefit Ronstadt's publicity because Asylum would try to outdo Capitol with its first Ronstadt recording, and Capitol would do the same with the following release.  Each company would throw all of its corporate muscle into advertisement campaigns for the albums.

The first album on Asylum was 1973's Don't Cry Now, which was Ronstadt's first Gold album (500,000 copies sold) and a bonafide improvement over the previous Capitol release.  The next album, reverting to Capitol, was 1974's Heart Like a Wheel.  Heart went Double Platinum (selling over 2 million units) and hit number one on the U.S. pop and country charts, establishing Ronstadt as a landmark artist in the U.S.  The next album on Asylum, 1975's Prisoner in Disguise was a decent followup and reached number 4 on the pop chart and number 2 for country.

(this is the box set- image: allmusic.com)

The box set is kind of random, beginning with Prisoner and including 1976's Hasten Down the Wind, 1977's Triple Platinum Simple Dreams, 1978's Living in the U.S.A., and 1979's Mad Love.  Living also went to U.S. number 1 and sold over 2 million copies, and that is the album I will focus on for the rest of this post.  I'm sorry I keep making these posts ridiculously long, but there's really no other way.

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Upon first listen, this album failed to impress me, especially after listening to the other aforementioned albums. In contrast to the flashy, uptempo tracks on those albums, Living is collection diverse songs spanning the century from a 1930s standard ("When I Grow too Old to Dream") to a cutting edge Elvis Costello cover.  It is an exceptional example of how to meld styles and time periods to produce a cohesive album with an overarching sound and theme.  In retrospect, it's a miraculously prescient transition album between her clear cut rock and country sounds of the '70s and new wave balladry of the '80s.  The record includes new Ronstadt collaborators including saxophonist David Sanborn.  Overall, the atmosphere is a little cool and detached, but it reminds me of someone looking in the mirror and pretending the person they are observing is someone else--a detached reflection on the trials and triumphs of a young life.  And the album cover is kind of cheesy, but it's rumored that the popularity of roller skating actually increased across the U.S. as a result.  

I'm not a fan of the Chuck Berry-penned "Back in the USA", but that's probably because I'm not a fan of Berry in general.  The old time rock n' roll arrangement on the album felt very dated.  The second song, "When I Grow too Old to Dream," is a bit of a bore.  But the placement was strategic because the next song, "Just One Look", is a powerful midtempo rocker featuring some of Ronstadt's trademark falsetto improvisation near the end.  This is where the album really gains momentum and refuses to slow down until the final track.  

"Alison" was written by Elvis Costello and is one of my favorites on the album.  Because the song addresses a woman, certain media outlets had a field day with the possibility that Ronstadt was gay or bisexual.  However, she explained that she was singing the song about a friend named Alison who was going through a rough time ("Alison/I know this world is killing you").   Costello publicly expressed dissatisfaction with Ronstadt's interpretation, but he allowed her to use three of his songs on his next album because he "liked the money" her sales generated for him.  

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In my opinion, the best and most controversial song on the album is former Ronstadt fling J.D. Souther's "White Rhythm and Blues."  Souther songs appeared on nearly every Linda Ronstadt release, as did Karla Bonoff's compositions.  He also wrote songs for the Eagles and was apparently obsessed with black roses.  The core of the song is the intentionally vague lyric "all I need is black roses/white rhythm and blues/somebody who cares when you lose."  I often switch the words "black" and "white" by mistake and think of the wealth of racial and cultural connotations implied by either order. 

image: rateyourmusic.com

 Black roses are associated with positive and negative symbology including death, tragic love, and rebirth.  Historically, "white rhythm and blues" is also known as "blue-eyed soul," a genre exemplified by Dusty Springfield and Jerry Lee Lewis.  Basically, top notch white singers and groups covered soul songs decently for the first time.  A parallel can be drawn to early rock and roll groups including The Beatles, The Who, and The Rolling Stones, as all were heavily influenced by African American artists such as Little Richard and Muddy Waters.  The true meaning remains a mystery, which may have been what Souther intended.  I interpreted it as Souther's reflection on the blue-eyed soul genre and his attempt at writing a song inspired by that period in popular music.  

Another song that dabbles in the abstract is "Mohammed's Radio", a Warren Zevon song I dedicated a previous post to.  The cover lacks the irony of Zevon's original delivery.  Zevon's singing is lighthearted and spontaneous in a way that offsets the potentially serious lyrics about the radio as salvation, whereas Ronstadt's technically perfect delivery lends itself to a more literal interpretation of the lyrics.  

End it, end it!!  Okay, this is the final paragraph.  Ronstadt was often criticized (by Costello and many music critics) for singing that was too "white," too "technical."  These critics say that her "perfect" voice lacks soul because it lacks an idiosyncratic identifier (such as Bob Dylan's nasally tone or Bonnie Raitt's bluesy phrasing) .  But according to critic John Rockwell, "words lack music's emotional power but can be far more focused; the combination of words and music, then, can function as a dialectically potent artistic marriage."  I like to think of Ronstadt's style as photographic.  She was able to accurately deliver lyrics in a way that magnified their intended meaning. In other words, her mastery of auditory phonetics allowed her to bring the work of great songwriters to new audiences over the course of her successful career.  

Diane Birch: An Introduction

For my school's paper, The Saint, I often contribute to the "artist spotlight" section, a great addition to the culture page that the section's editor implemented about a year ago.  The section has introduced readers to many talented artist they are unfamiliar with, and I have found some new favorites by reading articles others have written for the section.  For the upcoming issue, I am working on a spotlight for Diane Birch, an artist I discovered last year via Pandora.  I was listening to a station based on the music of Carole King, with Joss Stone and Adele added in for some variety, and Birch's song "Fools" (which I believe I have already included in a previous post) just absolutely blew my mind.  I bought the album it's from, Bible Belt, and it passed the acid test, playing on repeat in my car for weeks.  After a three year wait, Birch's sophomore album will be released on October 15th and is currently streaming here.  The following is an excerpt from the upcoming article.  I sure hope you'll all give the album a listen, because it really has something for everybody.

Artist Spotlight: Diane Birch

“My goal is to make people dance and cry,” proclaimed Diane Birch in a recent interview with Philthy magazine.  The singer-songwriter’s latest effort is Speak a Little Louder, released on October 15, is certainly capable of realizing such an audacious desire.  The album follows a nearly three year break following 2010’s Bible Belt, a piano driven collection of pop songs inspired by classical music and Birch’s globetrotting childhood as the daughter of a missionary preacher. 

image: amazon.com

Birch learned to play piano by ear at the age of seven as a student of the world renowned Suzuki method, and she’s been developing unique vocal trademarks since then.  Showcasing a voice that slings power and pain across stylistic and temporal boundaries, Birch’s songs encompass all of the breezy joy and yearning of historical pop hits along with lyrical heft and musicality to rival proven greats like Carole King and Adele.  Birch's music is immediate and heartfelt, avoiding the chronic detachment that plagues many trendy songwriters and indie bands. 

Originally intending to compose film scores, Birch, a Michigan native, was discovered in 2006 at the age of 23 by the one and only Prince at a piano bar in the Beverly Hills Hotel.  An impromptu jam session with the cultural icon opened the door for Birch to pursue singing as a full time career.

Bible Belt, regardless of overt religious undertones in the title, was intended as an expression of freedom from the restraints of externally imposed spirituality.  Birch’s debut introduced the world to a singer with genre-bending capabilities and the potential to expand into jazz, soul, dance, and rock. Arrangements on that album are sparse and cohesive, featuring Birch pounding out retro tinged songs on an antique Wurlitzer piano.  “Rewind” was exquisitely reworked by English rapper Devlin, becoming a top ten hit in the United Kingdom.

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Speak a Little Louder solidifies the artist’s nature as a fearless experimenter who is constantly evolving.  It’s hard to imagine skipping a single track because each song is brought to complete fruition with a wider palette of instruments to paint with.  Additional electronics are implemented to crystallize Birch’s visions.   The standout track, “Frozen Over,” includes percussion reminiscent of the late ‘80s Stevie Nicks song “I Can’t Wait,” and indie-tinged rocker “Lighthouse” sounds like a supercharged Florence + the Machine ballad.  Prince’s influence can be heard on “Love and War,” an irresistibly hook-driven torch song.  The album is surely one of 2013’s best.