Patty Griffin’s return from a six-year hiatus is the stunning Crown of Roses. Stunning should not necessarily be viewed positively, but in terms of how remarkably bleak most of the tunes are. The best songwriters, Griffin among them, often gravitate toward dark material, and her recent run of albums has moved increasingly in that direction. Still, nothing quite prepared the listener for this, which is so far removed from Flaming Red, 1000 Kisses, and American Kid that at times it may seem like a different artist. Granted, her voice has changed to little more than a whisper as she’s battled back to recover it since her bout with breast cancer in 2016. Yet, her obsession with the past, recent losses, and more directly with mortality is overwhelming. If you are feeling down, it’s best to avoid listening. Okay, you have been sufficiently warned.
There are, of course, positive aspects too. Her poetry is as rich as ever. She does have a couple of optimistic tunes, and her thought patterns often resemble those 3 AM dreams. Well, maybe that part isn’t so positive, but they are certainly relatable. The album is also somewhat deceptive. The lead track and single, “Back at the Start,” is engagingly rhythmic, but while setting the tone lyrically, it offers just one of the few upbeat musical moments. Griffin had this song in mind for a long time, struck by its opening lines, “There’s secrets I don’t tell ever to myself/I just keep moving.” The tune is packed with terrific lines, but the baseball analogy about danger or negative fate lying just around the corner is succinctly summed up this way: “It’s lonely in the outfield/But the ball won’t come to you/so you’re safe for now.” Generally, the tune assesses the day-to-day drudgery that life brings, emphasizing the need to be both stoic and resilient.
Griffin works mostly with the core of her longtime guitarist, David Pulkingham, drummer Michael Longoria, and multi-instrumentalist Craig Ross. The latter’s baritone sax on “Back at the Start” brings a solid bottom that thickens the rhythmic groove. The mellow, folk-like, intimate “Born in a Cage” begins the series of devastatingly sad songs. Heather Trost on violin and Jeremy Barnes on santur (Iranian hammered dulcimer) join the ensemble here and on several others. It’s tempting to read a political bent as she sings about the strange age and hiding from the rage. She could also be referring to herself and the like-minded. There’s even a literal way to view the tune because if it was written during the pandemic, even my wife observed the disappearance of birds. “The End” is supported by a string quintet with Trost bringing a deeply haunting solo. Achingly beautiful musically, it shares much thematically with “Back to the Start,” as Griffin ponders the process of aging and a relationship that has grown tired and unfulfilling.
“Long Time” features a slightly different backing cast, notably Robert Plant on the harmony vocal. A tune that begins with ‘valley of the despair” is destined to be bleak. Griffin sings in a whisper, as if taking her last breaths in a desperate cry for help, in a tone of futility. Griffin’s voice is more emphatic, even powerful in “All the Way Home,” filled with imagery about traveling to the city from her residence outside of town. The band strikes up a western soundscape. While it seems as if it’s a series of stream-of-thoughts, the last line, “They laid me to rest and hoped for the best,” suggests the proverbial home in the sky. She essays her upbringing in Maine, and expresses a wish for a better fate for her late mother in the unaccompanied “Way Up in the Sky.”
“I Know a Way” finally reminds me of the Griffin of two decades ago, as she (yes, she does) expresses optimism in rather upbeat music, relative to the preceding six. Bukka Allen makes his lone appearance on organ and electric piano, giving a lift to the sonics. Griffin’s final bow, “A Word,” is a sincere, intimate love song with the final line “But I will never stop loving you,” a line which gives us pause to consider listening again for any silver linings we may have missed.
