Grammy-winner Patty Griffin, one of our top songwriters in the past two decades, is back with her tenth studio recording, her first that’s self-titled. Most of these intimate, relatively sparse and moody tracks were recorded in her home in Austin, TX. She co-produced with her long-time collaborator Craig Ross. Her supporting musicians are familiar too. They are stellar guitarist David Pulkingham, drummer/percussionist Conrad Choucroun, cellist Lindsey Verrill, pianist Stephen Barber, and Robert Plant who harmonizes on “What Now” and “Coins.”
You may have already heard the powerful single “River.” It’s a completely different song than Joni Mitchell’s but equally as poignant, and more musically rich than much of the contemplative fare on this album. These songs were written during and in the aftermath of Griffin’s ultimate defeat of cancer. As the disease was wreaking its havoc, Griffin couldn’t help but compare its physical toll with the emotional toll she and many felt about the 2016 Election and its dooming ramifications. Yet, Griffin, who writes in a veiled autobiographical way at times, and speaks in another protagonist voice in others, somehow never makes these songs about herself, or at least not directly, hence the notion of “veiled autobiographical.”
The opener, “Mama’s Worried” sets a rather despondent tone that colors much of the album as she sings mournfully while Pulkingham’s flamenco-like guitar complements the stark mood. In “River” she seems to be comparing a river to a strong, undaunted woman. Maybe this is about her or it could be about another that she admired who was struggling – “Isn’t she a river?/Doesn’t need a diamond to shine/You can’t really have her/But you can hold her for a time.” As she nears the end of the fourth verse her voice soars in its gospel glory, not unlike some her performances on her Downtown Church album.
”Where I Come From” is seemingly about her home town of Old Town, ME. She paints reflectively dark imagery with lines like – “The veterans/The veterans of all the past wars/Sit outside on a Sunday afternoon/The mills closed down long ago and so/We’re way past unemployment/Like a bad joke somebody told on our town/For their enjoyment.” Griffin gets into her patented bluesy mode with a discourse on people who try to shape our lives with confining values in “Hourglass” while her character develops a rebellious spirit.
The half sung, half spoken “Had a Good Reason” seems to be about her (or someone like her) relationship with a mother who hasn’t accepted the career of a musician, wishing another path had been taken. In the acoustic blues of “Bluebeard” Griffin uses fairytale imagery to discuss infidelity and the unspoken burdens many of us carry. “What Now” could be a contemplation on mortality or, in simpler terms, looking for hope and sustenance in nature using the moon and ocean metaphorically. Griffin’s voice soars beautifully at the end as she sings, “Sing me lullabies form the ocean floor/Far away, far below and falling.” The light piano introduction to “Luminous Places” sets the stage for this tantalizingly slow tune where Griffin, using moon and sea imagery again, seems to hang on tightly to each word in dreamlike fashion.
”Coins” could probably be interpreted a few ways but it seems to be about a past lover who has since become a power-hungry, money-obsessed individual she’d rather forget. Interestingly, she assumes the role of one of the boys in “Boys from Tralee,” perhaps using the analogy of Irish immigration to shine a light on the current immigration issues. No doubt, there are politics on her mind in the blues stomper “The Wheel,” as she decries police brutality and violence in general, absolutely wailing in the final verses.
Griffin returns to the contemplative mode with only Pulkingham’s plucked guitar notes behind her as she ruminates about lost love from a new perspective in “What I Remember.” She concludes with “Just the Same,” indicating that it may be better to go through life’s struggles with a partner, rather than going it alone. Although it’s true that expectations of one another may not always be met, acceptance is the better course of action.
This is one of Griffin’s most introspective albums, as she continues to move in this direction. Her fans will enjoy the lyrics and her, unique passionate vocals. For those new to Griffin, however, suggest you start with American Kid or Downtown Church and then work your way toward efforts like this and her previous Servant of Love. You’ll be rewarded.
2 Responses
It’s a shame when every dull and cliched toss off of a sentence in a review tells you the reviewer had nothing invested in the review. Just another deadline. Griffin deserved better.
Mr. Hynes, your review of Patty Griffin “Patty Griffin” seemed pretty positive to me and I’m a big fan of this musician. I found nothing in it to complain about myself. And I get where your coming from. It’s kinda like applying for a job with a solid four point average on your record. An employer might think the person applying will likely have poor social skills from having a head buried in books all the time and not hire that person. If every review a person wrote about Patty griffin’s music gushed uncontrolled amazement and wonder for her talent the reviewer would be less credible with each review. Speaking of unemployment, wasn’t that line “like a joke someone told about our town for their enjoyment” maybe one of the greatest lines, comparable to Dylan, Springsteen or Prine’s best work, even. Yea, . .. I probably wouldn’t be good at your job. Keep up the good work. I enjoy it.