I don't like giving something a bad review. Be it a book, a CD, a film, or a painting I always try to look for something positive to say about it even if I don't like it personally. My taste isn't universal by any stretch of the imagination, so I try and put a review into a context that allows me to judge it somewhat objectively.
In the case of a music CD I'll look at production values, how well the performer has worked within the context of his or her genre, if the performance is of a professional quality, and, if there are lyrics in a language I understand, their emotional and intellectual merits. At least that way, even if I don't personally like what they are doing, I'll be able to have some way of telling potential customers if they've done a good or bad job at what they have attempted.
Maybe because I've been on the receiving end of critical reviews, I try to be as compassionate as possible when it comes to reviewing something somebody obviously has put a lot of effort into. But sometimes there is just no way around the fact something hasn't worked.
Unfortunately that's the conclusion I've reached after listening to a new release by singer Kacey Jones. She's known for her comedic works in the group Ethel and The Shameless Hussies and for working as a producer with the likes of Kinky Friedman. But whatever skills she may have exhibited in those endeavors seem to have deserted her on the CD Kacey Jones Sings Mickey Newbury.
Perhaps the style of music is beyond her capabilities either as producer or performer (she also produced all the songs), or perhaps the songs of Mickey Newbury aren't that good. Whatever the reason, this CD did absolutely nothing for me. There's a fine line between singing with and about genuine emotion and crossing over into sentimentality and mawkishness.
Article comments
1 - kriss wagner
Mr. Marcus: Seldom have I read a review that is riveting, insightful and clearly well-researched. Yours about Kacey Jones’ new album isn’t one of them. Rather, and against your grain, Kacey Jones Sings Mickey Newbury is a flawless presentation of the late songwriter’s thoughtful and often painful reflection of his world and the world of millions of us. Kacey takes great care to present his lyrics with appropriate vocals from soaring joy and hopefulness to alto-voiced dispair and resignation. Wisely understated, she allows Newbury’s lyrics and music to tell the stories, helping the listener understand them through an easy-to-listen-to, empathetic style, complimented by considerate, full-bodied arrangements.
Since you admittedly don’t know anything about her, I’ll help you by saying those familiar with her other works know her as a transplanted singer/songwriter/producer of global influence in the Country music industry. Recognized as an accomplished comedienne and writer of a sometimes biting, sometimes ironic and always experienced catalog of hundreds of songs, she adds the Newbury tunes to her repertoire of remarkable performances. As an accomplished musician and writer, Kacey knows good writing and, in this album, delivers the goods.
Your scathing, Thesaurus-dependent diatribe in which you admittedly hadn’t heard of Kacey or Mickey Newbury, went on for two pages, reaching a conclusion with no foundation and no background. When a reviewer takes the first 14 lines to apologize for his impending pan, a red flag should go up for the reader: This person doesn’t know what he’s talking about. On the other hand, Ron Wynn’s review in the Nashville City Paper is 14 lines start to finish, intelligent, incisive and, unlike yours, knowledgable.
Without tainting my observation with a repeat of your review, I will make just three points: First, you undertook reviewing an album which is clearly over your head. You sound incapable of stretching your narrowly-defined musical universe. I have read some of your reviews. You need to stay away from classy recordings like Kacey’s.
Second, you seem to have difficulty discerning one instrument from another (“…neutered pedal steel guitar”). Now, I’ve listened to Kacey’s CD at least 30 times edge to edge and I haven’t heard one pedal steel guitar, neutered or otherwise. Which validates my musical training since there isn’t a pedal steel guitar on any track.
Third, you strongly suggest that since Kacey’s several previous albums have been comedic, she should remain in that milleau . You also presume that Mr. Newbury, having “recorded most of his music in Nashville” automatically “makes him nominally a country musician” .
Since you are categorically pigeonholing Kacey and Mr. Newbury, I suggest that you, who have been described on-line as a “long-haired Canadian iconoclast”, should leave music reviews to those with open minds and write only about hockey.