Jen Chapin, Ready
Some artists, upon becoming parents, grow soft and precious in their work, but Jen Chapin remains a vital songwriter with a jazzy bite. Her new CD may be her best yet.
True, it has many quiet times and gentle sounds, and even a lullaby ("Skin"). And she addresses the "little man" in so many words more than once. But her slithery delivery, pop-inspired melodies and cutting lyrics turn even the homiest sentiment into art.
Nor has Chapin left behind her social and political consciousness. Pretty tunes and easy, jazz-soul arrangements (played by a very tasty small band that includes her husband, bassist and co-writer Stephan Crump) carry acidic observations about politics, ambition and lust. With a muted sonic palette the group paints a broad variety of pictures.
The mesmerizing "Goodbye" has an almost Brelian sadness, while the funky Rickie Lee Jones-like "Election Day" reflects Chapin's longtime work with World Hunger Year (co-founded by her father, Harry Chapin): "We fuse all our illusions to these long lolling hours / To dreams of new sneakers and memories of funeral flowers / To each distracting handout and styrofoam meal / Leave chanting to the children a fury we conceal."
"NYC," reworked from the bass-and-voice version on 2002's Open Wide, features Crump's upright bass at its funkiest, while in the title track, a 1970s-style funk-soul groove blossoms into a spacious jam about new love.
There's a lot to discover on this CD. Since it's mostly on the quiet side, a couple of listens may be needed for full appreciation. But it repays the effort, plus interest.
This isn't my mug of grog, but if you like supercharged headbanging alternative gloom metal, it might be yours. Splitsenseis all about glowering moods and crunching guitars, not sensitive songwriting, and with lyrics like "These walls won't last forever / Stale clouds of dust infect me" it's just as well. That's from the hookiest song, "As Far As I Can See." Lead vocalist Jason's hoarse yell is almost satanically strong, though it can soften into sensitivity, as in the ballad "Nigh," for me the CD's other highlight, whose melody uncharacteristically verges on the sweet. Mostly this music is a blast of adolescent anger at the world. "You'll never break free / Of my disease / Scream / You can't repent for all your / Sins." "Don't fall / Fall to your knees / Cause I can't save you." They're right: Splitsense isn't going to save the world, or anyone's soul, or rock and roll for that matter. But they make a hell of a noise trying.