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- Let Me Down Easy - In Concert (2000)
- Souvenirs (2000)
- A Woman Like Me (2003)
- I've Got My Own Hell to Raise (2005)
Let Me Down Easy - In Concert (2000)
8.5
My Man / Damn Your Eyes / Right in the Middle / You'll never Change / Almost / Your Turn to Cry (Your Time to Cry) / He Made a Woman Out of Me / Let Me Down Easy
When
I bought this album a few years ago and read that prior to its release, Bettye
Lavette only got the opportunity to record and release one album (1982's Tell
Me a Lie, allegedly an attempt of Motown to cash in on Diana Ross' crossover
appeal), the only thing I could do was to throw my hands up in the air in
despair at the thought of such horrific injustice. In the meantime, there
have been several more releases: in 2000, French soul collector Gilles Petard
licensed her unreleased 1972 album on his Art and Soul label under the name
Souvenirs; a few years later she released the multiple award-winning
A Woman Like Me; while her biggest critical and commercial success
yet came with the recent release of the Joe Henry-produced covers project
I've Got My Own Hell to Raise. Hipsters are ready to embrace Bettye!
It seems that Lavette is finally getting the credit she deserves, but it remains
frustrating that from the four previous decades, only a handful of singles
testify to her greatness. It took a few smart Dutch people to make this album
happen. First, there was Jaap Hendriks, who programmed her on a renown blues
festival (where she became the brightest star), and then there was Dutch roots-label
Munich Records, who were willing to revive the career of a woman already considering
herself "a dead artist." Even though the concert captured on this disc is
quite short (presumably it's only a part of her performance) at eight songs,
the tracklisting is quite interesting, as all the key songs from her career
are featured>
The performance starts off, for instance, with her very first recording, "My Man - He's a Loving Man," a swingin' R&B-statement that bears the mark of her education in Detroit's blues clubs of the late 50s and early 60s. Lavette may argue she wasn't raised on gospel fervour, but hearing her you'd swear she was trained in church (like so many of her peers and contemporaries). From then on, the entire set becomes a showcase for Lavette's amazing voice, an instrument - a weapon, even - that's been formed and refined to what it is today, a carrier of multiple emotions. It's still a bit rough around the edges, but it also contains the remains of decades of bad luck and even worse decisions (like leaving Atlantic right before Jerry Wexler was planning to hook her up with a still unknown producer, Burt Bacharach). One shouldn't rely on hyperboles too much, of course, but this woman can plead, accuse, regret and proud herself on her accomplishments in such a devastatingly convincing way, with such a fantastic timing and command of her voice, that you'll have a hard time coming up with equally gifted singers that are still out there, delivering the goods. As Herman Van Der Horst argues in the liner notes, this is a different kind of "soul" than is released by superstars like Mariah Carey or Celine Dion: "These ladies sure can sing; technically speaking. They have big volume. But all their vocal power doesn't tell us anything significant. Their volume is empty."
As Lavette parades, atones, indicts and charms her way through the Southern soul of "He Made a Woman Out of Me" (which proves she was singing about having her cherry picked way back in the late 60s), the bluesy strut of "Almost" and the ballad "Your Turn to Cry," it's tempting to think up scenarios of what could've been if she'd been on better terms with fate. But of course, Lavette's persistence - the fact that she was still delivering high-intensity shows in 2000 is enough proof of her combative attitude - makes your realize it's all about the here & now, and it's obvious she treats each show as if it might very well be her last one. The album's two highlights are the lengthy songs that are least conventional. Disbanding the rigid structures, traditional horn punctuations and catchy choruses of the shorter blues and soul songs, "Damn Your Eyes" and "Let Me Down Easy" are almost avant-blues in their approach. Instead of fleshed-out arrangements, they are steered in the right direction by subtle keyboards, repetitive bass lines, guitar scrabbling and the dynamics of Lavette's voice. They're almost sonic versions of lengthy poems, extended meditations on (lost) love and emotional struggles. Both songs display an almost painful intensity, a feverish tension lying beneath the surface waiting to explode and when Lavette succumbs to those feelings and opens the barrel's lid, you'll almost feel uneasy at hearing such searing outcries. While the ethereal vibe of "Damn Your Eyes" (usually attributed to Etta James, but also Lavette's favorite tune) has its charm, it's the sweltering climax (and the trip towards it) of the closing song that shows her strength and ability to get into a song most successfully. Even though she's accompanied by a seven piece-band (the classic line-up of guitar, bass, drums and keyboards, plus trumpet, sax and trombone), there remains an intimate atmosphere throughout the entire show.
In Sweet Soul Music - Rhythm and Blues and the Southern Dream of Freedom, Peter Guralnick's definitive history of the genre, the writer expands on "Wexler's contention that you can't replicate a feeling" by stressing that soul of the classic era just can't be replicated. The musicians are different, the material used is different, the times are different. Also on Let Me Down Easy this is occasionally apparent, but mainly in the performances of Lavette' band, which is professional and competent, but occasionally also seems to lack the singer's grit and emotion. Even after many, many listens, it remains awkward to hear the combination of her mighty voice and… a synthesizer. The passion and adventurousness of those classic bands isn't there, but this is redeemed by the force of nature Bettye Lavette is, a woman with enough imagination and interpretative powers to revert the most banal into something meaningful. May the voice never cease singing.
Souvenirs (2000)
8
It Ain't Easy / Fortune Teller / Our Own Love Song / Soul Tambourine / Your Turn to Cry / Ain't Nothing Gonna Change Me / All the Black and White Children / If I Can't Be Your Woman / Outside Woman / The Stealer / My Love Is Showing / Souvenirs / Heart of Gold / You'll Wake Up Wiser / My Man - He's a Loving Man / Shut Your Mouth / You'll Never Change / Here I Am
Much
more than just a cheap keepsake, this album owes its existence to people who
are genuinely dedicated and interested in the quality of music and not in
record company politics. In November of 1972, Lavette got the opportunity
to record an album in Muscle Shoals with the Muscle Shoals Rhythm Section
and producer Brad Shapiro, one that was set to be released by Atlantic. The
problem, however, was that the single "Your Turn to Cry" couldn't even make
a dent in the R&B-charts and the master tapes of the album (Child of the
Seventies being its working title) were taken back to the vaults and presumed
to be destroyed in a fire. Nearly three decades later, it appears that Lavette
got hold of them and with the aid of French soul devotee Gilles Pétard, the
album gets released after all in 2000. You don't have to be a soul expert
to realize that Atlantic pulling the plug on the project was a ridiculous
decision, as it shows that the younger Lavette (age 26) also was a force of
nature to be reckoned with. Though her young voice doesn't have the expressive
power of her older self yet, there's already this emotional rawness, directness
and earthy quality to her voice. It's obviously already a tough lady at work.
Before the release of Souvenirs, Lavette repeatedly claimed she didn't
regret the fact that Child of the Seventies was never released, but
that can only be attributed to much self-criticism or pride.
"Your Time to Cry" may have been a commercial failure, but hearing it more than three decades after its recording, it still stands as one of Lavette's best recordings - a perfectly created, balanced soul ballad that's both assured and vulnerable, with a true tour de force vocal performance by Lavette, who infests her singing with an amazing intensity, without reverting to excessive tricks. The remaining eleven songs aren't slouches either, switching from tough deep soul to blues/C&W-inflected stompers that are on a par with nearly all soul of the era. On the trudging "It Ain't Easy," Lavette recalls both Dolly Parton and Aretha Franklin, "Soul Tambourine" almost sounds like Motown-goes-Stax, while she sounds like a grittier Dusty Springfield on "Ain't Nothing Gonna Change Me." If there's one thing the album perhaps lacks, it's a certain homogenous sound, as it sometimes seems to struggle to incorporate too many styles, switching from the hard urban soul-funk of "The Stealer" to the syrupy and orchestrated "My Love Is Showing" and the bluesy ballad "If I Can't Be Your Woman." That said, nothing here sounds artificial and Lavette repeatedly shows impressive skills - the title track, for instance, is easily on a part with the control she has reached on I've Got My Own Hell to Raise. As a bonus, the release also includes three singles (and B-sides): her version of Neil Young's "Heart of Gold" (recorded half a year before the Muscle Shoals sessions) is a surprising and successful inclusion, but it's the early singles that are the real eye-openers here. Recorded when she was barely 16, her first single "My Man" may lack the skill of the later releases but has a pureness and semi-childish sexuality that's still amazing after +40 years later; while the confident doo-wop of "You'll Never Change" will have you wonder why she wasn't more extensively recorded. Souvenirs is a bit too much of a scattershot affair to be regarded as an unconditional soul classic, but Lavette's immediately recognizable vocals and interpretative powers are already in full swing, making it a must-have for any serious fan of soul. Is that what they call preaching to the converted?
A Woman Like Me (2003)
6.5
Serves Him Right / The Forecast / Thru the Winter / Right Next Door / When the Blues Catch Up to You / Thinkin' About You / A Woman Like Me / It Ain't Worth It After a While / When A Woman's Had Enough / Salt on My Wounds / Close As I'll Get to Heaven / Hey, Hey Baby (Bettye's Blues)
While
I've always been one to tell anyone who was willing to listen that good material
will always withstand lousy production jobs or even be enhanced by
it (would you really want to hear those Can-albums with a thick, fuzzy & modern
sheen?), a particular production style can actually ruin your listening pleasure.
This risk is nowhere as high as in modern blues. Even though the genre lies
at the roots of most (if not all) rock music, blues music has often been the
victim of tasteless studio experiments, treatments that prepared it for mass
consumption, casino houses, shopping malls and uncomfortable elevator situations.
I regret to say that this is also the main problem with A Woman Like Me,
which could have been recorded in 1987. The sound quality is totally pristine,
professional and sophisticated, but there's something wrong when the only
soul on a soul/blues album that features almost a dozen musicians comes out
of the singer's mouth. It shouldn't be a surprise the entire album sounds
like a Robert Cray album from the 80s. There's nothing wrong with Robert Cray
- he's a fine guitarist and a superb vocalist - but his earlier albums were
recorded on couches instead of barstools standing between landmines. Blues
and soul (A Woman Like Me hovers more toward the former) are, more
than any other genre, rooted in emotional expression and experience, so I
consider it a normal thing to expect it to be presented with… soul.
I'm a white boy raised on punk albums, so I have no right to raise my voice
and complain, but I just wish producer Dennis Walker (who also wrote 9 out
of 12 songs) and Lavette would've come up with something grittier, something
less professional, less slick.
Those who are familiar with Lavette's heartbreaking yelping and moaning will undoubtedly presume I'm mainly talking about the music here, and indeed… the drums click, clack and tack, the piercing guitar sounds stings but doesn't bite and the keyboards of Rudy Robinson - Lavette's "musical director" for over three decades - are pushed to their cheesy extremes. If you're a fan of blues, it's hard not to be moved by the sincerity of songs like "Salt on My Wounds," "When a Woman's Had Enough" and "Thru the Winter," yet the smell of plastic keeps lingering. "Close As I'll Get to Heaven" has everything to become a modern-day anthemic blues classic; the title track has everything to become the kind of song all blues-minded women should treasure; and "Right Next Door" has everything to rival Cray's supremely soulful version, but they could've been so much better. Lavette is in great shape throughout the album, switching from throaty whispers ("Thinkin' 'Bout You") to blues shouting and little slips that are technically imperfect (in the second half of "Thru the Winter," you expect her to break down completely, so anguished is the blood-raw emotion of her voice), yet the accompaniment prevents it from becoming a truly inviting record. As such, it's no surprise that A Woman Like Me would cause a small breakthrough in the US and the kind of release that got an important (W.C. Handy) award and rave reviews from major publications. However, listening to it in 2005, not long after the release of I've Got My Own Hell to Raise, I just wish they'd re-record A Woman Like Me on a hot and chaotic afternoon, so that Lavette's voice gets to shine instead of make up for bad decisions essentially beyond her control. Clean shouldn't be a synonym for sterile.
I've Got My Own Hell to Raise (2005)
8.5
I Do Not Want What I Haven't Got / Joy / Down to Zero / The High Road / On the Surface / Just Say So / Little Sparrow / How Am I Different / Only Time Will Tell Me / Sleep to Dream
Anti
Records, home to artists as diverse as Tom Waits, Daniel Lanois and Danny
Cohen, and the label that released Lavette's I've Got My Own Hell to Raise,
prouds itself on its motto "real artists creating great records on their
own terms." Based on this album, there's not really argument to refute
that statement. On each and every level, it's the best studio material by
Lavette available on the market. As on her previous album, Lavette only interprets
songs (she's a singer, not a writer), but this time around, all the tracks
were originally penned by women. It was a concept that was suggested by Anti's
president Andy Kaulkin, and initially only met with reluctance from Bettye,
who didn't want to sing too many "pitiful" songs. Eventually, she was won
over and with the help of Kaulkin, producer Joe Henry and her husband, more
than 100 songs were considered and ultimately 10 selected. Henry did already
something similar with soul legend Solomon Burke in 2002 (Don't Give Up
on Me), but in that case, all the songs were purposely written with Burke
in mind. On I've Got My Own Hell to Raise, there's only one song written
expressly for Bettye (Sharon Robinson's "The High Road"), the others having
appeared before (though several are rather recent songs by singer-songwriters
in their prime). What immediately strikes you as a listener is the album's
great sound, something it shares with Don't Give Up on Me. Whereas
A Woman Like Me contained a fine batch of songs that were rendered
limp because of an overly slick and cold sound, this is its comfortable, intimate
little brother. As such, the record almost suggest it only wants to be played
at night, when the dust has settled and meaningful stories are told.
The inviting sound is only enhanced by the sparse arrangements and unobtrusive contributions of the musicians (Chris Bruce and Doyle Bramhall II on guitar, Lisa Coleman on keys, Paul Bryan on bass and Earl Harvin on drums), who know when they can cut loose, but also when a subtle lick or stroke will do the trick. This approach also allows Lavette to open the album with her vocals-only version of Sinead O'Connor's "I Do Not Want What I Haven't Got," a suitable showcase for her mature, half-cracked voice that betrays a lifetime of experience and wisdom. Rob Bowman's liner notes refer to Dylan's Time Out of Mind in this respect as another album by a weathered artist still capable of invigorating results. It's obvious that Lavette's sincerity can only stem from a personal identification with her lyrics. Like a good actor does with his character, she gets inside her song to discover and uncover its nuances, its expressive and emotional power. Occasionally, this involves different lyrics: the words to the swampy "Little Sparrow" were changed and some deleted because Lavette wanted it to convey more of a combative attitude than Dolly Parton's original, while the setting of Lucinda Williams' "Joy" changes from West Memphis to New York City and the music shifts from a slow, bluesy stomp to something more funky and danceable (the wonder of a hi-hat). While all 10 tracks contain more class separately than most contemporary soul divas can muster on three albums (if not an entire career), it also has its highlights. One of them is her stark, minimal version of Fiona Apple's "Sleep to Dream," a line of which provided her with the album title. Another one is Joan Armatrading's "Down to Zero," which she sings with a commending feel for rhythm, adding more meaning with each considered syllable. The finest track, however, may be the obscure "Just Say So" (by a certain Bobbie Cryner), the album's quietest, most introvert song, but also one that conveys an almost unbearable intensity that only the greatest soul singers can attempt to reach. The remainder of the album rarely reaches this level of excellence and a few songs tend to meander, but lovers of true soul will rarely hear an album like this these days, ranging from the sing-along soul-pop of "How Am I Different" (Aimee Mann) to the ear candy of "The High Road." The absence of a raucous, feverish soul holler is basically the only thing that's a pity here, but why complain when you get a damn fine album by a singer who finally found the right people and material to display her terrific qualities. It may have taken more than four decades, but Lavette is finally where she belongs. (Jan. 2nd, 2006)
Read album reviews of similar or related artists: Solomon Burke - Bettye Lavette Live Review