Jolie Holland – Escondida (Anti 6692, 2004)
Thankfully, the transition from lo-fi spare room demo to recording studio hasn’t harmed the sound or spirit of Jolie Holland’s work.
Catalpa was a rare and mysteriously compelling release that relied, for some of its charm, at least, on the surroundings in which it was made. The clarity of this new one enhances rather than detracts from the seductive qualities of the former, and ensures the intimacy of her singing is still the CD’s prime focus. Her unforced phrasing and wonderful accent are captured intact and deliver the songs in a way that is, perhaps, unique.
If anything, Escondida has an even more charming and inviting sound, with some subtle additions and colors being brought to songs that still sound as though they might have been conceived on a mythical back porch somewhere. She takes in jazz, blues, folk and country influences and mixes then easily. It is
also difficult at times to tell which are originals and which come from a well-worn tradition. To her credit, most of the songs are her own.
The resigned blues inflections on ‘Poor Girl’ couple effectively with minimal slide and acoustic guitar and, eerily, her vocals echo the otherworldly voice of Canned Heat’s Al Wilson. This is evident too on ‘Lil’ Missy where she bends the notes in the same plaintive way. That track also benefits from an unfussy trumpet solo, just one of the complementary colorings to be found here.
There is more subtle brass on ‘Old Fashion Morphine’ where she mingles the blues and the spiritual. The latter element also infuses ‘Amen’, a traveling love song with only muted piano, more of which accompanies her on ‘Damn Shame’, which is graced by poetic lines like – ‘the smell of burnt exhaust drifts into the bar, it’s midnight in California, it’s high noon where you are’
The chords on ‘Goodbye California’ must have appeared on many a tune out of Nashville, but here the words manage to be removed from country cliché whilst referring to age-old notions of moving on. A weirdly compelling mixture, the song declaims and swaggers through its spirited farewells, aided by more of that liquid slide guitar. And she is equally at home on the British trad song ‘Mad Tom Of Bedlam’ where she has nothing more than brushed drums to support her hectic vocals. It’s combinations like these that make Jolie Holland worth much more than a cursory listen.
It is a real joy to hear this music, especially in an age of bland, manufactured female singers. She has her own track to follow in her own way. She is the real thing, and I look forward to hearing where she ends up next.
Buy Escondida.
Author: Paul Donnelly
