High Bias
March 2, 2003
[see the current issue]
Aural Fixations
The premise of this "comeback" album is the same as the premise of the opening paragraph: start with as many fascinating facts as you can gather and listen afterwards. The credits next to each song list some of the greatest and most famous names in late 20th century songwriting, and not coincidentally, a bunch of famous white guys. Each contributed original songs to this CD written expressly for Burke or finetuned for his giant voice. The monikers read like a list of "Who's Who" of Mojo Magazine's favorites: Bob Dylan, Brian Wilson, Tom Waits, Elvis Costello, Van Morrison and even Nick Lowe get in on the action. Also included are Brill-building writers Dan Penn ("Do Right Man, Do Right Woman," "Dark End of the Street") and Barry Mann/Cynthia Weil ("You've Lost That Lovin' Feelin'," "On Broadway"). But be warned, this marquis should not be enough to sell the CD to you. Some of these are not the greatest songs in the world (more like Thanksgiving leftovers) and this album would be nothing if not for Burke's amazing performance ability, versatility, and nuance. The album opener "Don't Give Up On Me" erases any hope that this album also signifies a comeback for Penn, author of "Do Right Man, Do Right Woman" (from Aretha Franklin's I Never Loved a Man the Way I Love You LP), one of the most unforgettable soul classics. Penn does however hit the mark with more accuracy than many of his contemporary soulsmiths. Luckily too, because in the hands of Burke, this cut compels the listener to do exactly what the title asks. With just a stripped-down backing band of Hammond organ, guitar, bass and drums (an instrumentation that dominates the album), Burke plays the lover or believer who has strayed with the kind of regret and humanity not often seen these days. Who else could walk that fine line of passion and piousness with such conviction? His interpretation of lines such as "I know it's late, late in the game," show a world-weariness that we may never know. Of all the tracks, this one sounds like the old days of gospel soul music, enough to make you feel how you hope it could: stone cold. Protected by this voice. Not only hasn't Burke lost anything, he's got so much more to give. However, in some cases during the course of this collection, the songwriter shows up guilty of having too little to offer. Take Van Morrison's two contributions, "Fast Train" and "Only a Dream." Both seem surprisingly flat and uninspired despite Burke's gut-wrenching fire. Likewise, Dylan's "Stepchild" putters out of gas going uphill. Suffice to say that a young man like myself could have no way of understanding what Dylan is saying about the woman of his affection who treats him like a stepchild, and I should probably remain a little subservient. It certainly is an interesting idea, and I'm sure Burke must know something about it, but dare I say adult-contemporary blues? (more) |
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