A few weeks back, Diane and I binged on several episodes of The Glen Campbell Goodtime Hour, which is available on the ad-supported Tubi streaming service. While the comedy hasn’t aged all that well, the show itself is a remarkable glimpse into the emotive power of music, with such guests as the 5th Dimension, Neil Diamond, Linda Ronstadt, Dionne Warwick, Stevie Wonder singing their hits and then trading vocal licks with Campbell. Perhaps that put me in the mood for retro-themed music, I don’t know. What I do know:
Old-school country, pop and R&B effortlessly blend together on Lost in a Dream, the stupendous sophomore album from Cassandra Lewis, in such a way that…wow. Just wow. At their best, the songs sound like long-lost tracks recovered from the vaults of American Sound Studio in Memphis or the FAME Studios and/or Muscle Shoals Sound Studio in Muscle Shoals, Ala. At their worst, which isn’t often, they are eminently listenable. Yet, while one will hear the echoes of an array of classic sides and singers throughout, what one hears most is Lewis’s own soul.
Hers has been a life that could well be the grist of a Bobbie Gentry song, moving often as a child until she and her family landed in Idaho, where—while still a kid—she gained local fame singing at retirement homes, the local Walmart and on TV. She later lived the homeless life, operated a pot farm in northern California that was wiped out by a wildfire, and found new meaning (via psychedelic medicine) in the Bay Area. As she says in her website bio, “You can’t appreciate the light without living and breathing the dark.” She landed at Low Country Sound/Elektra Records on what she’s called her last shot—a parking lot audition during the pandemic for the label’s president.
The 10-track album opens with “Too Much,” which at first listen is about her feelings for a lover who may not love her the way she loves him: “Since I heard your voice a-sailing on the breeze/Just a kiss from you could bring me to my knees/But I suppose you’ll always do just what you please/I would give my love to you even if you could not do the same for me.” Second, third and fourth listens have me thinking it’s less about the flesh and more about the figurative—aka her dream of a music career: “Oh, I’ve waited so long to grow strong enough to face you/And if it goеs wrong there’s no way I could replacе you.”
“Hold the Door” finds her “tangled up in branches near the clouds” and yearning for the wind to release from her solitary hell. “I spent far too many years/shackled to this anger and my fears,” she sings, while admitting that “I don’t always have the words to tell you what I need/and I’m sorry I expected you to read my mind sometimes.” It’s a remarkable song that features a powerhouse vocal. When singing soft, she’s reminiscent of an array of singers, from Dolly Parton to—as my wife Diane observed—jazz chanteuse Melody Gardot. But when she goes large…what did I say above? “Wow. Just wow.” Here’s a stripped-down version:
Another highlight is “More Like Mama,” a soft-hued yet clear-eyed celebration of her parents and how she carries aspects of both with her: “The family tree has many branches/and every branch will drop its leaves/We may not have that many seasons/but the stories of our lives will always be/deep beneath the soil inside the seed.” The song bridges the eras—it could well have been sung by the Judds in the ‘90s or Dolly in the ‘70s or ‘60s. That sentiment applies to “Some Kind of Love,” as well, with Lewis restraining her vocal—just when you think she’s set to go large, she reins it in.
The title track is yet another stunning tour de force. In a press release, she explained that both it and the album are “a complex story about the ways we can be deceived by our lovers and ourselves.” Here’s her “parking lot” rendition of it:
The album, which is well worth everyone’s time, was produced by Dave Cobb, who also handles guitar on several tracks. The band behind her features Trevor Bahnson on guitar, Brian Allen on bass, Chris Powell on drums, and Pete Lalish on keyboards. The 10 tracks themselves are a mix of ones she wrote on her own and others cowritten with Cobb, Bahnson, Anderson East, Angaleena Presley, Natalie Hemby and Emily West.
The tracks:
The Old Grey Cat 
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