| Product: |
C'mon, C'mon - Sheryl Crow |
| Date: |
20.09.03 (260 review reads) |
| Rating: |
 |
Advantages: Sunny acoustic pop = hooray., She says "diddly-squat.", Dammit, she has nice hair.
Disadvantages: Sheryl, honey, what in the hell was Abilene all about?
I must be one of the few I know who didn't really know much of Sheryl Crow before she uttered that she didn't have digital or diddly-squat. I remember All I Wanna Do vaguely, mainly because my brother hated it and I kept confusing it, by some screwed-up force, with Girls Just Wanna Have Fun. Because it's just so easy to confuse her with Cyndi Lauper. I'd like to add that as a child, I was rather stupid. That?s as much of an excuse as you?ll get from me.
Anyway.
The spring of 2002 lumbered into the lives of people everywhere, as springs (and other seasons) tend to do, carrying with it signs of the upcoming summer - a summer of sand and sun and cool, refreshing saltwater washing over you during a hot day at the beach. In fact, spring was fast becoming summer before it even reached May - and it was all because of the sunny-side-up, sea breeze hit Soak Up The Sun saturating the airwaves - it embodied the season. It was like playing with a jangly, cheery, 4:52 beach ball. It was that twangy pińa colada going down your throat.
It was that real bitch of a sunburn that you got used to after a while - that sunburn felt damn good.
And if that weren't reason enough for it to become a hit, Sheryl crooned "I don't have digital - I don't have diddly-squa-at..." in the first verse. That alone could've made it rocket up the charts. So I say. Either way, she hadn't popped onto the scene since 1998's Globe Sessions (unless you count her 1999 live compilation) - sure, four years isn?t much to some, but we wanted our Sheryl back! After her collaboration with former Fleetwood Mac singer, Stevie Nicks, on Trouble In Shangri-La, I was especially eager for Sheryl's latest offering - as long as she wasn't tired, thirsty, and wild-eyed in her damn misery as well.
After committing the usual heinous crimes of downloading a few songs off the album beforehand (oh dear me), making sure I kn
ew what I was getting into, it was settled. I was going to snatch up that pretty golden-toned disc in my grubby little hands - and earlier this year, I did just that. Unfortunately, it was winter at the time (early February, to be exact), so the effect was a bit lost. Yes, even in Florida. Either way, it stayed in my CD player for about two, three weeks in a row, lodging itself firmly into my brain with its oft-used sounds of acoustic/electric/strings, but showing that that particular formula didn?t mean everything had to be samey and boring (as some songs tend to be when the same instrumentation is used over and over again) - and proving to be especially helpful during one week that turned out to be quite depressing.
C'mon, C'mon - Musical Prozac. Or not. I don?t know.
But the hopeful, things-will-get-better mentality of Diamond Road seems to think it is - with its early-morning, up-with-the-sun sound, and the misty strings soaring along in the background, molding together for a big ball of Positive!Sheryl that doesn't exactly bounce around as much as it gently rolls along, with each section gently washing over the other. I still can?t figure out where the damn chorus is, though - but then again, not like I mind. With lyrics such as "When you're lonely (you're not alone), when your heart aches (on Diamond Road), it's gonna take a little time... it's gonna take a little time," aided by the gentle, encouraging falsetto of Sheryl, you'll just be left wanting more of the pretty pretty song.
I mean, she even takes the time out to ask a damn little bird what's troubling it - kinda makes you feel warm inside. Except not, but humor me here.
Alas, Sheryl forgets to take her Prozac by the time Weather Channel rolls around. But with its simple, soft, moody acoustic-and-bass arrangement, you'll want to hide the Prozac more often after this song is done. "I got friends - they're..
. waiting for me to comb out my hair," she mutters gloomily, "come outside and join the... human race... but I don't feel so human." No, you'e a crow. You go "Awk! Brawk! AAAWK!" and piss off farmers, and you're supposedly frightened off by sentient, straw-stuffed dolls that wish they had brains, and then you just had to go that damn Diamond Road instead of the yellow-brick one we told you about and... never mind.
Just for the sake of completion, there are some guest vocals from Emmylou Harris, so hooray for her. Whoever she is.
She's a little bit of country and a little bit of rock'n'roll. But, thank god, she's not an Osmond - at least, I can't see Donnie and/or Marie singing the twangy-electric Steve McQueen - laced with some more of that sunny-day feeling that you'll want to drive along to. The Weekend Song, I call it. Confidence. Fun. A bit of a tease and a tiny bit of sobriety - every last on of these shining through Sheryl's voice, declaring "well, we got rocks stars in the White House, and all our pop stars look like porn!" Having your head pasted onto the unclad body of Miss June a lot of times tends to do that to them. "You can call me on my cell phone, you can page me all night long - but you won't catch this free bird, I'll already be long gone!"
And this is how I came to associate Sheryl with a Pokémon. But that's a story for another day. ("I choose you, Pokémon Sherylchu!" Kill me.)
A bit of snarling and a tiny smidgen of buzzing, swooping synthesizers dominate the revenge-oriented Lucky Kid, carrying a bit of a hauntingly quiet keyboard moan under its otherwise rocking, slightly-ominous (still sunny) exterior. Even Sheryl's voice undergoes a bit of a synthesized treatment, admitting, in a deadly-serious, edged-with-delight chant, "I wanna make you scream for mercy - I wanna break the silence within.
Take you to your knees, just like you did me, and crawl around in your skin..." That's just nasty, Sheryl. You'd get all messy, for one. When she's not doing that disgusting thing, she declares, in a yell, "You're wasted! You got more than you asked for - wasted! You go in through the out door! Oh, oh, oh-oh-oh! Well, you're a lucky kid! (Wasted!)"
Yeah, lucky, until he gets that hangover the next day, Or maybe he's a masochist. I don't know.
With its softly-roaring, addictive electric-lick, You're An Original makes me think of those songs who have counterparts - although I this case, not even by the same artist, as its lyrical content draws strong comparisons to Cherry Lips (Go, Baby, Go!) by Garbage - with just as much bite, a sunnier sound, and less of the evident sarcasm heard in the singer's voice. Whereas Shirley Manson sneers her way through Cherry Lips and lets her voice drip with disdain, Sheryl flat-out tells it like it is, rolling her eyes in exasperation and grinning wryly, along with Lenny Kravitz (who does backup): "Deadly in the sack, groovin' to The Clash on some kind of wasted weekend. Pretty little girl, expensive little world - curiosity is piquing." She adds that, "You're an original, baby! Like we've never seen before! You're an original, baby! Turn around, and you're lookin' at a hundred more!"
The attack of the Crows - I mean, clones. Then again, an army of Sheryls would be rather frightening. I'd cry.
Every CD I listen to eventually must have something becomes my hands-down favorite. Okay, maybe not every CD, some just plain suck too much to have any songs I remotely like. Of course, this isn't one of those cases - and the jangly, warmly-buzzing Hole In My Pocket, cruising along effortlessly on more of that smooth sunshine sound we know and love, takes the cake - it's not exactly the beach yet, bu
t you're almost there, walking briskly down the boardwalk. You're carefree, just like the song. Laid-back, like Sheryl, who takes the lyrics with sort of an "Oops! Oh, well" mentality: "We stick together with every day that passes by - but I'm just like the weather - I keep on changing my mind! Well, you can hardly believe it every time I turn and say, well, 'Good morning, I'm leaving! And I'll be back in a few days!' But that's just the way it is!"
You know it. You've heard it everywhere on the radio, especially if you weren't hiding up someone's butt in 2002. Soak Up The Sun - the title alone lets you know exactly what you're going to be imagining or experiencing when you listen, a catchy, summery cut with twangy, lazy acoustics taking up the verses in a way reminiscent of Just Like A Pill by Pink. Except there's no bitchy little nurse or morphine or rabbits here. Instead there's Communists, diddly-squat, and fancy rides. And Liz Phair (who, oddly enough, I?ve never heard of) on background vocals. "Every time I turn around, I'm looking up - you're looking down! Maybe something's wrong with you that makes you act the way you do - maybe I am crazy, too!"
I'd go crazy, though, if I had "a crummy job, it don't pay near enough..." and I also "[didn't] have digital, [and didn't] have diddly-squat." There, there, remember, "it's not having want you want - it's wanting what you've got!"
Then again, the going crazy could also be attributed to the mildly-painful, mildly-annoying sunburn left by Abilene - no, not that city in Texas. Well, maybe not. I hope it isn't, at least. In any case, with its squealing, twangy electric blaring in your ears, this semi-slow, country-laced track (complete with Natalie Maines - of The Dixie Chhicks - providing a sort of duet-ish feel) will start to get q
uite grating quite fast. Although, I have to admit, Sheryl and Nat sound great together, providing tender, compassionate voices to a troubled, hurt girl - "Can't you see I'm wearing your shirt? The one with the heart on the sleeve - everyone can see you've been hurt, but, honey, don't give up on me!" Too bad they didn?t give up on the damn blaring/twanging... thingy, or I'd have loved this song.
I've always been a sucker for schmaltz. It's So Easy - a sap-o-riffic duet with Don Henley (of The Eagles, if I remember right) - proves to be schmaltz enough for me, falling just short of causing my first cavities to form. Piano gets introduced into this slow-rocking ballad, with the usual twangy/blaring electric guitars (except this time they don't annoyingly suck) humming along through the chorus - and, hell, Henley and Crow's voices blend very well together, and I'm happy as a (food-poisoned) clam. The topic? Oh, the usual affair. No, an actual affair. "Every night I lay here alone, after you leave me and go home! But she doesn't know that we can't let go, and it's hurting me so!" Whoops. Someone made a boo-boo.
A bit more relaxing, less cheesy, and without any additional additives, preservatives, or Henleys, the swaying, calm It's Only Love breezes along hopefully (if not a bit sadly) with a nice, elegant string section carrying along in the background - not sunny. Maybe a bit cloudy, a bit misty. Either way, it's still a mark of what makes this album so great - the bright cheery songs and thoughtful mid-tempos. Oh, and Sheryl, too. Sounding calmly reflective, a bit longing, she quietly remembers, "I think I met my match again - standing 'round the candlelight. In the middle of this blizzard, you stood - and melted all the ice! Oh... it's only love. Oh... it's only love. Oh, if only love comes 'round again, it will have been... worth the ride!"
Alanis Morissette says: "It's the free ride, for which you've already paid!" Sheryl got gypped.
But, thankfully, listeners didn't. Pulling off a brightly-positive and calmly-thoughtful array of potential hits, C'mon, C'mon practically embodies the seasons of spring and summer - and more the latter than the former, dripping with fun-in-the-sun pop tunes and beachside-morning ballads, add the feel of that cool salty surf hitting you - summer?s here (Well, technically, it's over, but shut up and play along) and it's time to get out that suntan oil, time to sit outside in the backyard under that bright yellow sun, time to cool yourself off for an afternoon with a cold glass of lemonade. Sugar Ray be damned, this is how to do it.
I kinda consider this to be a sort of sister album to both In the Pursuit of Leisure, and Michelle Branch?s Hotel Paper - all have that breezy, sunny vibe, and they'd all be at home blaring from a portable radio at the beach - but with? well, more guest vocalists. (Okay so Sheryl turned up on Hotel Paper, but anyway). Sunny pop hits. Breezy ballads. Sheryl. Diamond roads and diddly-squat. You want any of these desirable elements? Then C'mon, C'mon, and pick up this little sunny wonder.
Great Music to Play While: Relaxing on a sunny day, watching the sunset, cruising along with the windows down, soaking up the sun, finding out what's troubling that little bird, wearing shirts with hearts on the sleeve, not having digital or diddly-squat, and catching that free bird.
Summary:
|
|
