|
By and large, I don't exactly have to beat the bushes for review copies of CDs, in fact I often wish fewer people had my address, but on at least two of the rare occasions when I actively solicited a record label for one of its releases, I got the cold shoulder. By mildly odd coincidence, one of the albums I couldn't get was The Killer In Me by Amy Speace, who graced last month's cover, another was Just Believe It, the solo debut of Susan Cowsill, this month's cover story. Not that I let these rejections fester in my soul, but I will admit that I was not displeased to learn, when the two ladies happily handed me copies of those albums, that their labels' unwillingness to service 3CM was nothing personal but symptoms of a general systematic failure, the reason, in large part, why Speace is no longer with Wildflower and Cowsill has parted company with Blue Corn.
To me, nothing encapsulates the post-Internet changes in the music business as pointedly as the observation that whereas the tour used to support the album, now the album supports the tour. However, even if the equation has reversed, you would thing that one constant remains - the need for airplay, whether the stations are land-based, beamed from the satellites, or accessed by computer and media coverage, be it in old fashioned paper and ink or electronic.
. . .
More by accident than design, I spent a few years in the 70s working as a roadie, which had its ups and downs, but the high point was definitely getting to work on and off with Fairport Convention, whose permanent crew were good friends and roped me in when they needed an extra pair of hands. However, even without this personal connection, I was always a huge Sandy Denny fan, to me she was, still is, the female singer non pareil, the most wonderful, soulful voice I've ever heard, and, like many Denny fans, I'm somewhat protective of her legacy. A particular case in point is, of course, her signature original, Who Know Where The Time Goes, covers of which instantly raise a red flag. I detested, Judy Collins' squeaky clean version, but most attempts at singing this are simply misguided, Nina Simone, Mary Black, Nanci Griffith, Nana Mouskouri etc let their egos get the better of them, thought I'll make exceptions for Eva Cassidy because, well, she was Eva Cassidy, for God's sake, she could sing anything, and for Susan Cowsill. The main reason I tried, unsuccessfully, to lay hand on a copy of Just Believe It (Blue Corn, 2005) was that I came across an Internet clip of Cowsill's version and I'm here to tell you it game me goosebumps. Just before NotSXSW, publicist Cary Baker (who hosts the annual Conqueroo bash), mentioned that several of his clients were open to playing 3CM Presents, and, as I told him, the one I wanted was Cowsill, because any singer who can impress me by covering Sandy Denny is one I take very, very seriously.
Cowsill actually has some history with Denny, to whose music she was introduced by ex-husband Peter Holsapple when both were in The Continental Drifters, Holsapple was musical director of a 2001 Sandy Denny Tribute Concert at St. Ann's Church, Brooklyn, for which The Continental Drifters were the house band, leading to an EP of Denny and Richard Thompson songs, Listen, Lenten (Blue Rose [Germany], 2001). However, if Denny drew me to Cowsill's solo debut, when she gave me a copy in March, I really wished I'd been able to give it the praise it deserves when it first came out, though, for those of you who do have it, Susan and her husband, ex-Continental Drifters, current Susan Cowsill Band drummer Russ Broussard, have a surprise in store for you. What started out s minor tinkering on one track turned into a full bore stripped down remix of the entire album, which should surface sometimes in 2011 and hopefully, fare better than the ill-fated original.
When Susan's publicist called to remind her that Just Believe It, the solo album she'd been waiting to make since 1968, when she was the youngest of The Cowsills, and on which she'd spent every last dime, had been released that day, she was in a Lafayette Parking lot crying uncontrollably. She had just lost her New Orleans home and all her possessions, including instruments, equipment, hundreds of copies of the CD and T-shirts for its supporting tour, to Hurricane Katrina, and that wasn't even the worst of it. Her brother Barry was missing, his body not identified until January 2006 (another brother, Billy, died the following month). "The tour and the album were a secondary reality to what we were dealing with, we were just surviving, living in a van, but we had shows booked." Cobbling together equipment - Jackson Browne sent Cowsill a Dan Electro guitar and a small amp - they met their commitments, but a devastated Cowsill didn't know if she'd ever make another album. "I wasn't able to complete any songs, I just couldn't put one foot in front of another."
However, eventually Russ persuaded her that "We have to get back on the horse of life," and setting a goal motivated her into the traumatic process of finishing the songs and recording them. Just Believe It was well-planned and exciting, Lighthouse is a jazz funeral march, but I can step away now, come out from under the emotional weight of getting through those years. "Lighthouse was made possible by the Threadheads, a Jazz Fest social forum that evolved, post-Katrina, into a fundraising and volunteer benevolent group, whose most recent project is the non-profit Threadhead Records, which helps finance New Orleans musicians' projects through donations and loans. In Lighthouse, the Threadheads have given us a real winner, recorded, incidentally at Dockside Studios, Maurice, LA, where Bobby Charles cut Timeless.
Cowsill, with some help from Broussard and pianist Tad Armstrong came up with ten new songs, of which the eerie standout of ONOLA, an almost five minute hymn to her adopted home (though born in Canton, OH, she identifies herself as a Rhode Islander). It's a rich topic for which I don't have enough space, but this song is a moving example of the way NOLA songwriters address the city as if it was a living person rather than a pile of bricks and mortar, and we outsiders somehow understand why. By comparison, Jimmy Webb's Galveston is just a song about a place. However, the album's big set piece is another cover, of Barry Cowsill's river Of Love, on which Susan plays his guitar and is joined by her brothers Bob, Paul and John and John's wife Victoria (aka Vicki Peterson of The Bangles).
I would not claim, nor wish, Susan Cowsill to be the Second Coming of Sandy Denny, she is her own, very remarkable, person. However, sadly, Denny is no longer with us but Cowsill will, I sincerely hope, be giving us many more albums as good as this. If nothing else, she now has a permanent invitation to 3CM Presents.
|
