Nashville-based singer-songwriter Liv Greene turns time on its head throughout these 10 tracks, which delve into the truths of the human condition. Lyrically, they excavate matters of the heart, soul, and self, digging deep to uncover the poignant moments and emotions that make up life.
“I’m aware I’m a liar/Always lying to myself about my expectations,” she sings in the opening lines of “Deep Feeler,” the first cut, which confesses a self-deception that, too often, leads to major disappointment and heartbreak. She’s singing into a mirror, to another, to us, articulating a wisdom far beyond the years of many twice or three times her age: “Honey, I can’t change you/And I should’ve never tried.” We want the best for our loved ones—or potential loved ones—but leave their wants out of our efforts to shoehorn them into our needs.
“Make It Mine Too” shares a slow-rolling analysis about how shouldering another’s burdens doesn’t lift the weight from them but adds heft to our hearts. “Wild Geese,” which follows, wallows in the migratory patterns of old habits: “Why is your heart so stubborn?” she asks—herself, no doubt—about being unable to let someone go. “Flowers,” which she wrote after a breakup, tends to the garden of needs and wants that come with living alone. “I’m a 21st-century woman who’s crying like a little child,” she sings, both sure and unsure of moving forward on her own. Here’s a live rendition of it:
“Katie,” for its part, pays tribute to the former girlfriend who imbued her with the freedom to experience love in full. In the press release, she says, “It comes from a place of tenderness––of allowing yourself to feel those romantic feelings and really revel in them.” “I’ve Got My Work to Do,” which follows, is a two-stepping gem that articulates her hopes for the future: “I’ve got a dream that’s too damn big/I’ve got my work to do.”
As with other songs here, “You Were Never Mine” reminds me somewhat of Shawn Colvin circa her debut, the classic Steady On, as well as a more recent classic (says I) by Cat Clyde, Down Rounder. Her vocals aren’t quite as strong as theirs, granted, yet possess a magnetic quality all the same. “It Ain’t Dead Yet” and “Halfway Out” continue with the Colvin mood.
The album closes with the mesmerizing “I Can Be Grateful,” which finds her murmuring the many contradictions that make up life and love: “I can be grateful, and still mad/I can be happy and still sad.” It’s a wounded recognition set to song, just about, articulating the realization that the daily dramas we experience often play out in split-screen mode.
Recorded at Woodland Sound Studios in Nashville, the songs are buttressed by the rhythm section of upright bassist Hazel Royer and drummer Dominic Billett and supported by Sarah Jarosz on mandolin and harmonies, Elise Leavy on accordion and piano, and Jack Schneider on electric guitar. (Additional instruments float in and out of the mix as needed.) The press release quotes Green as saying, “This record captures me in the midst of a shift, a change in how I view my place in the world. Now, rather than an escape from myself, songwriting is communion with myself.” In so doing, she’s crafted a set of songs that resonate larger than herself. It’s a sublime outing.
The Old Grey Cat 