Say Hello to Haroula Rose

With music that’s as heartening as a lullaby, yet informed by perceptions both redolent and inherently mature, singer/songwriter Haroula Rose introduces herself as a remarkable talent — and a remarkably promising one at that — on her debut release, a 5-track EP entitled Someday.

Nurturing an organic, windswept sound borne of folk and alt.country influences, Rose — whose soft, unaffected voice recalls Alison Krauss and perhaps Mindy Smith — is generously supported by delicate melodies and arrangements.

She draws on themes of doubt and self-assurance — both the presence and the lack thereof — endearing herself as empathetic and emotionally receptive. In “The Leaving Song,” for instance, she sings with a wistful premonition of how her insecurities will cause the loss of a love, likely her first of real significance. “Oh babe it’s all so new to me,” she laments amidst a gentle rustle of strings and piano.

In turn, “Love Will Follow” finds her conciliatory and strong, assuring her special someone that in spite of his apparent disillusionment — “You get further away/ Every day/ What do you look for?” — she will always be with him. A stark and steady guitar progression underscores this promise and, while its sentiment may be simple, the compassion with which Rose imparts it makes for a gripping song.

Rose turns especially pensive, though, on “If I Could Pray,” during which she questions the essence of her faith and how — if such were more secure — it would sustain her in moments of great uncertainty. Ironically, she does so against a playful rhythm of hand claps and assorted strings, making what could’ve been a brooding meditation into something more hopeful and resilient.

Of course, it would be presumptuous to conclude — even though she’s written everything on this EP in the first person (and despite references here of her as a subject) — that Haroula Rose is relating firsthand experiences or exact personal feelings. What believing in such an assumption does speak to, however, is her authenticity as a songwriter as well as an interpreter of her own works.

In just over twenty minutes, Rose makes a notable impression with Someday, delivering one of the finer debuts of the year thus far.

Neil Young Unearths the Goldrush with Archives, Vol. 1

In a career as uncompromising as any in popular music, Neil Young has seldom sought the creative path of least resistance, instead yielding to the mystifying influence of his own muse. With unwavering conviction — believing that the best, most inspired works flow through, rather than from, one’s consciousness — Young is a rare figure in rock, one who is inextricably attuned to his art while, at times, shamelessly expressive of his most visceral and vulnerable emotions.

Long running on his own wavelength — and not just in the realm of music, incidentally — Young has produced a canon so prolific and singular that chronicling it has posed a host of problems, not least of them being its eventual scope and format. After years of false starts and thwarted expectations, though, the first installment of what promises to be a monumental undertaking has ultimately come to fruition.

Archives, Vol. 1 (1963-1972), comprises ten discs total. Nine of these feature music culled from Young's stints in Sixties bands from the Squires to the Buffalo Springfield, and continuing through sessions with Crazy Horse and on solo LPs like Harvest and After the Gold Rush (including assorted extras like a career timeline and memorabilia). The last disc features Young’s surreal 1973 film, Journey Through the Past. As a whole, the complete collection yields a genuinely compelling perspective of the rock legend.

Perhaps the most important factor to consider, at least in terms of its contents, is that this collection does not boast dozens of previously unreleased songs. There are no lost classics that have been unearthed for this project. Rather, it contains previously unreleased versions of songs (many of which are classics) culled from their respective era.

That said, among the music discs are formerly unreleased mixes (either mono, stereo, or promotional edits), live performances, or various pressings. Point blank, this is not a substitute, what-could-have-been view of Young’s career (a la Springsteen’s Tracks box), but rather an everything-goes exhibition of one particular creative period.

Given that most of the material is well-known — at least to Young’s fans, which are who this set is geared toward — what’s worth noting is not so much which songs work and which do not (as most fans have surely inferred as much by now), but instead what distinguishes the music of this era from later ones of his career.

For the most part — with the radio edit of “Ohio” being the strongest exception — the version of Young heard here is not the angry or irascible one who more frequently populated later albums like Tonight’s The Night, Freedom, and Ragged Glory. The artist heard here lay more in the singer/songwriter vein, brimming with feral self-awareness and rich perceptions. Even on familiar material, hearing alternate versions of songs like “I’ve Loved Her For So Long” (previously unreleased, live), “Don’t Let It Bring You Down” (first pressing), or an accelerated take on “Sugar Mountain” (previously unreleased demo), Young’s genius is palpable and promising.

Considering that Young’s career has never been much of a linear one — his sidetrack projects have often been more interesting than his original plans — the timeline feature on each DVD reflects those excursions and his overall efforts especially well. Plus, certain stops along the way yield further music performances (including a live montage taken from the Buffalo Springfield’s final performance) as well as photos, images of news clippings and other relative souvenirs.

Also not linear in any chronological (or even much of a logical) sense, Journey Through The Past finds Young around the time of the making and promotion of his 1972 album, Harvest. If not for a few select performances of its songs (including “Alabama” and “Are You Ready For The Country?”) and an in-studio interview with DJ Scott Shannon, you’d be forgiven for thinking this was simply a slapdash home video that Young once spliced together in his garage. The film does underscore Young’s eccentricities and humor quite well — and hardcore fans will undoubtedly enjoy his oddball antics — but it doesn’t do much to underscore the quality of his music.

Regardless, overall Archives, Vol. 1 overwhelmingly succeeds in exhibiting the breadth as well as the context of roughly the first quarter of Neil Young’s extensive career. While not for the casual fan, it yields a mind-bending and magnificent portrait of the artist as a young man.

Heather Kropf Evocative on Hestia

Certain albums invite a bit of contemplation — just a little time to let the music sink in and simmer — before some telling aspect, be it a particular lyric or chord progression, tugs at one of your proverbial soft spots, bringing everything into focus. With its melodic subtleties and deceptively simple songs, such a depiction could fairly apply to Hestia, the third and most recent release by Heather Kropf.

For those unfamiliar with the singer/songwriter and her music, Kropf affects a soft, bittersweet voice — imagine an audible brew of Shawn Colvin, Suzanne Vega, and Kasey Chambers — while, musically drawing upon contemporary folk as imparted, for the most part, on piano.

Named after the Greek goddess of the hearth fire who oversaw domestic life, Hestia aptly reflects a placating, insulated sort of serenity. Supported by sparse, delicate arrangements — all but one track underscoring Kropf’s rich piano playing — the music elicits an ethereal, often melancholy dimension.

The songs themselves — some having been culled and re-worked from earlier compositions while others mark their first appearance on record — are evocative vignettes, as intriguing in their lyrical abstractions as in their fragile sound. From the narrative enigma in “Grace” — “She’s looking through the keyhole/ You gonna ask her in?” — to the modest mysticism summoned by a pedal steel in “Kite,” Kropf endears herself as an artist of sensitive depth and resonance.

Most striking is “Devolving,” in which Kropf envisions a dark, swirling haze of imagery — “Let the winter wind blow cold now/ To clear the evidence of what’s gone down” — as an ominous clarinet complements an otherwise minimalist, unwavering motif. It’s the kind of song that has you figuratively grasping for a revelation, all the while leaving you happily immersed in its haze.

Hestia is also that kind of album. Heather Kropf doesn’t come off here as a starkly confessional or cathartic sort of singer/songwriter. Rather, she sounds like she’s tapping into subconscious terrain, unearthing impressions that aren’t yet crystallized or perhaps even understood. And it’s amid such emotional obscurities that Kropf makes compelling music.

No Magic In Springsteen Paperback

Like Dylan and the Stones, the Beatles and Bowie, so many biographies have been written about Bruce Springsteen that — barring some crucial shift in context that would warrant the writing of an altogether new life story — books that concentrate on a particular aspect of his craft have become more prevalent in recent years.

One of the newer ones, Magic in the Night: The Words and Music of Bruce Springsteen, sets its focus on the Boss’ songwriting. While author Rob Kirkpatrick does an adequate job of identifying major and recurrent themes in Springsteen’s works, his assessments seem derivative and compulsory or — when not backed up by one of his many cited sources — contrived.

Surveying each of Springsteen’s albums in chronological order — from 1972’s Greetings From Asbury Park through 2007’s Magic — Kirkpatrick delivers a condensed account of their writing and recording, now and then injecting an innocuous opinion or side-note anecdote respective to the album at hand. There aren’t any notable revelations here and any fresh insight to be gleaned would most likely come from a more qualified source rather than from the author, who frequently renders his subject and occasionally his work in a condescending light.

For example, when mentioning Springsteen's infamous lawsuit against his then manager Mike Appel following the release of Born to Run, Kirkpatrick notes that his intention is “not to take sides,” but then proceeds to label the then-twenty-something Springsteen as “careless to the point of naiveté regarding financial matters.” For the record, the author makes no remarks or judgment on Appel’s business acumen at the time.

In another instance, the author dismissively undercuts the significance of one of Springsteen’s mentors and the prime inspiration for We Shall Overcome: The Seeger Sessions. Kirkpatrick asserts, “Not only was this the first collection of arrangements that the nation’s most famous singer-songwriter [Springsteen] had ever released, but it dusted off songs associated with a folkie who was decades removed from pop-culture relevance.” That’s sort of like saying J.D. Salinger — who, like Pete Seeger, is also 90 years old and, incidentally, alive — isn’t influential or important in the realm of literature (or in pop culture, for that matter) because he hasn’t published anything in about the last half century.

The most frustrating part of Kirkpatrick’s examination of Springsteen’s work, though, lay in his comparative scrutiny of songs that have yet to see the proverbial light of day. Now, most Springsteen fans know that a treasure trove of unreleased material is locked in the vaults and that Tracks barely scratched its surface. Knowing such material exists, though, is different than knowing its specific contents.

Regardless, the author writes of several obscure, as-of-yet-unreleased songs, at times describing their sound — as he does with “One Love” and “Betty Jean,” calling them “rockabilly” and “country” — while at other times explaining their narratives (“Richfield Whistle,” “Losin’ Kind’”).

Altogether, he compares and contrasts such works — including their arrangements, lyrics, and themes — to officially released ones of the same era on albums that anyone can obtain (in this case, Nebraska and Born in the USA). It’s a one-sided assessment, though, because most people (even many diehard fans) neither have these obscurities nor the resources to acquire them to form their own opinions. Knowing the author has heard them doesn’t help the reader or the rock ‘n’ roll listener appreciate what it feels like to hear these songs roaring at full blast.

Point blank, for those serious enough about Bruce Springsteen’s songwriting or career in general, there is no shortage of compelling and comprehensive books available at your local library or bookstore; this one just isn’t among them. While Rob Kirkpatrick lays out a solid premise and expounds on a few thematic tendencies in Magic in the Night: The Words and Music of Bruce Springsteen, his uninspired and often patronizing analysis does nothing to serve that objective.

Tori Amos Satisfies With Abnormally Sinful New Album

On her latest album, Abnormally Attracted To Sin, Tori Amos envisions a cycle of picturesque, often-woeful songs marked by seediness or some underlying element of shame. Through scenarios depicting characters either flawed or anguished, Amos lifts the veil just enough to reveal impressionistic glimpses of their supposed immorality and squalor.

Among the dark thoughts and deviance portrayed are risqué trysts, pubescent fixations, abusive relationships, existential suspicions and consensual submissions. In other words, they’re the kinds of subjects and themes that have populated Amos’ albums for the better part of the last two decades. It’s what she does with them musically on this new work that makes it especially intriguing and her strongest, most satisfying effort in years.

Drums and assorted percussion play an integral role throughout, from supplying the brisk, galloping pace of “500 Miles” to injecting the propulsive thrust of “Not Dying Today.” A grungy guitar erratically interrupts a trash-can-stomp groove on “Police Me” while, on “Give,” a boorish backbeat prefaces (and recurrently competes with) Amos on piano and vocals.

Indeed, it’s on her signature instrument that some of the more poignant songs focus and flourish. “Maybe California” and “Ophelia,” in particular, tell of women caught in conflicted conditions, their respective distress mirrored in the music’s eloquent yet plaintive arrangements. And in depicting an altogether different type of distress, a nebulous piano motif underscores an awkward conversation between a mother and her son in “Mary Jane” (which may or may not be about what the title suggests, but either way it’s awkward).

Other songs — specifically “Strong Black Vine” and the noirish album closer, “Lady in Blue” — benefit generously from vigorous synths and strings, instigating edgy rock rhythms with orchestral force.

All is not so enthralling, however.

"Fire To Your Plain” and “Fast Horse,” to cite two examples, slog along without making much of an impression, sounding more like languid segues in between the more interesting songs they precede and follow. Truth be told, Amos is at her best when at her most artistically eccentric and mercurial. She is not — nor has she ever been, thank God and/or Lucifer — a middle-of-the-road artist. So it’s disheartening when a couple of songs here sound like they could have been performed by anyone else and yielded the same results.

And so, at seventeen tracks, the album could have done away with its rather lackluster material to yield a more cohesive work. Nevertheless, its preponderance of ingenuity and overall creative, engaging music makes Abnormally Attracted to Sin Amos’ all-around best effort since From The Choirgirl Hotel.