The buzz about Robbie Robertson’s first solo album since 2011 calls attention to his inspiration from decades of film work and fascination with the darker side of human nature. Yet, Sinematic touches on many more themes, from his autobiographical growing up, to the dissolution of The Band, to love, to politics, to climate change to a touching elegy. This will be a big Fall for Robertson as he’s written the score for Martin Scorsese’s much-anticipated crime epic The Irishman, as well as the feature documentary film, Once Were Brothers: Robbie Robertson and The Band, both due to open soon. There‘s even another project that we need to stay mum about for the next week or so. You many have already heard the single, featuring the vocals of Van Morrison, “I Hear You Paint Houses” from The Irishman.
That film is based on Charles Brandt’s “I Heard You Paint Houses” about confessed hitman Frank “The Irishman” Sheeran. It’s mob code for hiring a hitman and painting houses refers to spattering walls with blood. It opens with Robertson’s devilish invitation (you can practically envision him slyly grinning) – “Shall we take a little spin/To the dark side of town?” The tune’s bright guitar and upbeat tone belie the chilling lyrics. It does set the tone for other grim narratives that follow but this is not an album of film score songs. It has many more themes, and the songs were written while Robertson was working both on Scorsese’s film and his documentary.
The album has Robertson’s signature solo sound – many songs seem almost spoken word recitations in his cool, parched voice which at times seems like it’s whispering in your ear over a bed of vibrant guitar stylings (many rather impressive) and atmospheric, moody, heavy-on-electronics mid-tempo rock. Mostly the production is superb but there are some places where the electronics (courtesy of DJ producer Howie B.) overwhelm the lyric choruses. That’s a minor quibble though. On most tracks Robertson is accompanied by bassist Pino Palladino (John Mayer Trio, The Who), drummer Chris Dave (D’Angelo, Adele) and keyboardist Martin Prader, who also mixed the record. The is augmented on some tracks by guitarist and vocalist Afie Jurvanen, and vocalist Felicity Williams, a regular collaborator with Jurvanen in his band Bahamas. The special guests, in addition to Morrison, include Glen Hansard, Citizen Cope, J.S. Ondara and Laura Satterfield – all vocalists. Musicians include Jim Keltner, Derek Trucks, Frederic Yonnet, Doyle Bramhall II and Howie B.
So, we will delve into this multi-faceted album. On the opener, Robertson apparently intended to do it alone until Van Morrison showed up unexpectedly. Robertson’s association with Van dates to their days living in Woodstock. Robertson says of Van, “He likes what I’m doing with the guitar and the vibe, so we kick it around and end up turning it into a duet.” “Once Were Brothers” is about the dissolution of The Band, written for the documentary. With backing vocals from Nairobi native J.S. Ondara and American singer/songwriter Citizen Cope, Robertson relates The Band’s farewell over mournful harmonica and organ. This verse stands out – “We already had it out/Between the north and the south/When we heard all the lies/Coming out of your mouth/But we stood together/Like we were next of kin/And when the Band played Dixie/They came marching in.”
Another standout track from the documentary is the autobiographical ‘Dead End Kid,” recalling his days growing up as a member of a First Nation and Jewish gangster family. This is perhaps his best guitar track, as he dangerously wields his axe over defiant lyrics like these – “I want to show the world/Something they ain’t never seen/I want to take you somewhere/You ain’t never been.” Surely enough, his work with The Band did just that. “Hardwired” unapologetically details human nature’s impulses for love and war while the cautionary “Praying for Rain,” a great example of his poetry, speaks to climate change with heartache and dissonant guitars.
”Let Love Reign” is, as mentioned in the lyrics, is inspired by John Lennon. The track is one of two featuring Glen Hansard and has Robertson discoursing on personal and political nightmares while pleading for a better future for “this beautiful broken world.” It starts out with a bluesy guitar riff patterned on Dale Hawkins and “Susie Q.” Robertson comments, ‘ Some people think John Lennon’s dream about love and togetherness went up in flames. I think that’s wrong. It’s everlasting. There was something a little naïve about John Lennon going around singing about peace, but in that period young people celebrating love and peace helped end a war.”
”Walk in Beauty Way” is an electronics-tinged tribute to the late Jim Wilson, the Choctaw/Irish musician who collaborated with Robertson on his 1994 Music for Native Americans and its companion TV miniseries. The spare ghostly vibe and the song title comes from a traditional Navajo prayer and it’s beautifully sung by Laura Satterfield, the niece of Rita Coolidge and daughter of Priscilla Coolidge. “Wandering Souls” is one of the two instrumentals, another fine example of Robertson’s playing, in a simple trio format, refreshingly free of electronics that sometimes add clutter to other tracks. The second instrumental, “Remembrance,” is a melancholy elegy for Robertson’s friend, the late Paul Allen, Microsoft co-founder and music lover. The gorgeous, highly memorable guitar tones on this piece blend Robertson with Derek Trucks and Doyle Bramhall II.
”Shanghai Blues” is another vivid crime narrative examining China’s notorious Green Gang mobster Du Yuesheng, who dominated opium, gambling, and prostitution operations in the early 2oth century. Another dark piece is “Beautiful Madness,” aided by Ondara’s vocals and it dates to that crazy period when Robertson and Scorsese were housemates. It’s a reference to 1956’s film “Bigger Than Life” starring James Mason as a patient who descends into psychosis after abusing an experimental medication. Here and on “The Shadow,” the Orson Welles series from the radio era, underground DJ Howie B creates the rather dark, bizarre, otherworldly soundscapes. Robertson takes his own tact on “Street Serenade,” urban cacophony that he calls a “sinphony.” He comments further, “if you listen to London, Hong Kong, or New York in a certain way, all the energy and sounds blend together and make up an orchestra. I was doing a rhythmic impersonation of these noises. I didn’t want to use sound effects, and I didn’t want to do the obvious, to play the lonely trumpet mentioned in the lyrics. I wanted to score the story I was telling without being on the nose. And, once again, there’s a dark side here.”
This is a highly creative album that only Robertson could deliver. It’s not perfect but it’s highly memorable and well-conceived.
