Stuck Outside Of Memphis For One Last Night (The Greatest - Cat Power)

Member Name: Seres

Product:	The Greatest - Cat Power
Date:	29/02/08 (17 review reads)
Rating:

Advantages: Chan Marshall herself, the lyrical touches and musical flourishes

Disadvantages: Where Is My Love, a dull song that shouldn't be on here

Amy Winehouse has soul, I don't think anyone can doubt that. Nobody has done more to cultivate the reinvigoration of Motown than the London lassie, yet when it comes to showing real heart and soul, your first musical stop should be Cat Power. Chan Marshall (for that is her real name) may not have the brass that Winehouse does, but when it comes to the blues, there is barely a singer around who can come close to her. Over the past few years Marshall has been suffering from alcoholism and after putting out this album she suffered a breakdown because of the stress of the drink. She took a break, and then came back to promote the album, sober and seemingly a different woman. Now it's always been that vice and music have gone together well, especially when the blues are concerned, but Marshall's output had been somewhat patchy even before the drink began to take it's toll, and the odds were on this new album turning out to be nothing less than a complete shambles.

Yet here we are, you reading this review and me stating now, for the record, that "The Greatest" is truly the best album Cat Power has ever released. It's a touching, powerful look into her psyche, and is as redemptive and confessional as anything Amy has released, but with a frailty that puts her in another musical league. From the powerhouse ballads to the quiet, lyrical twists she's well-known for, all that makes Cat Power the unique musical entity that she is can be found on "The Greatest", along with several new musical strengths. The songs here have a generally sparse feel, even though backing is provided by The Memphis Rhythm band, which creates an ambience that really does take you back through the decades, towards the golden age of blues music. And for a white girl from Georgia, that's not bad.

The album starts off with the title track, a slow, laid-back sounding song. "Once I wanted to be the greatest", Marshall sings elegantly, in a soft voice that rises just above a whisper. Long drawn-out violins lay out a base for the music, which takes in a lone piano, to create a song of aching longing that starts the album off in a wonderful manner. It's one of several heartbroken tracks that deal specifically with her alcoholism; and the fact that for the past ten years or so, she's been totally unable to keep herself together. "Empty Shell" reemphasises the painful clarity with which Marshall sees her own forthcomings with a gorgeous, whinnying fiddle part (in country/blues music violins automatically turn into fiddles), and the quiet jaunt of the song has Marshall's world-weary narrator thinking back over lost love. It's a song that is gone all too quickly, even though it's not a short piece. In fact, "Islands", the only truly short song on the album, feels like it's been perfectly paced. It has a simple romantic message, gets it across, and is gone with a puff of smoke. A calypso theme (laid back, naturally) takes the music off to a dreamlike place, whilst Marshall puts her whisky-barrel voice into full-on lonesome mood. "I just want my sailor to sail back to me" she sings, with a voice that should belong to a woman much older than her. It's a short, chilled out song that lasts exactly as long as it needs to.

Although the longest song on the album at just under six minutes long, "Willie" breezes by rather quickly. There is a striking rhythm tapped out of the piano and a biding drum, which dusts but never gets noisy. Marshall's voice fades into the distance throughout, never taking over or showing off, and whilst it makes for a pleasant song, you can't help but wish she'd perhaps been a little more willing to take risks in her music. As it stands, the two riskiest tracks are "Where Is My Love" and "Hate", and Marshall wastes the former by making it a dull, terrible moan of a song, where she groans the title a few times, interspersed with a bit of scaling piano that adds very little. The quiet hum of strings is nice, but the song itself is something not even Death Cab For Cutie would drag up. It recalls Tori Amos at her rawest (which also happens to be when Amos is at her worst), and Marshall can do so much better. "Hate", for example. It's a short staccato piece (oh yeah, droppin' the terminology, that's me!) with Marshall alone on guitar, singing starkly and powerfully "Can you believe she just said that? I said I hate myself and I want to die" It's the most terrifying song, but it has a powerful grip, certainly. It's the only track that would make you think twice about putting this in under the Christmas tree for mum, but I personally think the album needs it. Once she's managed to get her pain across, she then releases all her energy into "Love And Communication", the most up-tempo song on the album, and the closer. It feels like all the tension that has built up throughout the album by Marshall can now be released, and is a breath of fresh air after the heartfelt balladry that'd gone on before. A guitar plays, bass drums pound, it's all understated still, but the wiry violins which scrape quickly and sharply underpin the whole thing and make things sound disturbing and wrong, even as Marshall sings "love and communication/you were there for me". It's a relief for her to get out of her dark period, but at the same time there are indications that at any moment she could slip, and fall back into drinking. Hey! It's a concept album!

"The Moon" and "After It All" are another couple of song which fit nicely into the album, providing nothing of any real substance, but serving as slightly more than filled. The former has a slow, thoughtful quality about it which is the best and worst thing about it. Nothing happens in the song, but it has a nice rhythm. Decide for yourself if that's enough. "After It All" features a selection of clicks and slow claps, and some wink-wink whistling that make it seem like something the Rat-Pack could have attempted. As it is, Marshall shows off again her mellow, smoky voice to it's full extent, aching and sighing in time to the slow, slow beat of the drums. However it's at the start of the album that she finds her true edge, on the magnificent songs "Living Proof", "Lived In Bars" and "Could We". Living Proof is a sultry, knowing song, with a musical flourish of piano, brass and woodwind, all played out together to create single notes. "It's not your face/or the colour of your hair/or the sound of your voice my dear/that's got me draggin' air" she pouts, sounding ever so slightly like a bluesy Jenny Lewis. It's a song that she absolutely stamps herself all over, a subdued march that you feel the urgent need to listen to again and again. "Could We", the single, is in a similar vein. You can imagine it being part of a musical, where the love-struck couple dance through Central Park in Autumn (why is it always Autumn in rom-coms?) and admire everything around them. The playful, bouncing guitars combine with some superb trumpet-playing to create the second-happiest moment of the album. It's the song you should listen to first, before you try out the rest of the music.

For me, though, nothing compares to the fantastic "Lived In Bars". Directly drawing from her alcoholic tendencies, she evokes the spirit of a worn-down bar playing jazz music, as she wearily sings out her woes against a melancholy piano. Her voice sounds so tired, so hopeless, for the first half of the song, being without a doubt what the word lament was coined for. "We know your house so very well" she reminisces; as an oboe blares out a lonely melody. Then halfway through things turn round, and you can hear her voice repair itself, as she slowly gains strength to sing the closing verses. As her backing singers join in with her, the songs morphs into an R&B number which dispenses with the woes of life and finds solace in the happier things. It's the song which defines the album, a melancholy but ultimately uplifting tale that goes from defeat to victory. For so long Cat Power has been dreaming of being 'the greatest'; but it is here that she finally comes into her own and proves herself to be one of the most important artists in modern music. "The Greatest" is a revelation, a record that will doubtless sound as fresh and invigorating in fifty years time as it does right now.

Summary: What the blues should be