Years long ago, Paul Simon observed that “every generation sends a hero up the pop charts.” What he failed to mention, perhaps because it didn’t scan with the remainder of the stanza, is that every generation also has plenty of artists and bands who, though as good as (if not better than) that hero, fail to break through.
Singer-songwriter—and one-time record store employee—Mary Karlzen is a good case in point. Back in the 1980s, after landing in Florida to attend college, the Chicago native joined the all-women group Vesper Sparrow, released a well-received solo album and EP on the Miami-based Y&T label, appeared on VH-1 Country, opened for Bob Dylan, Jackson Browne, and John Hiatt, and signed with Atlantic Records in 1993. The album that followed, 1995’s Yelling at Mary, earned critical praise; the Philadelphia Inquirer, for instance, described the songs as “charming and unpretentious,” while calling her “a cross between Juliana Hatfield and Sam Phillips.” In a similar vein, music scribe Holly Gleason—in a piece for the Tennessean—observed that she “may look like a fragile China doll, but her heart and her words are strong.”
Karlzen herself, however, heard Yelling at Mary as flawed, a compromise between the label’s wish for a country/folk-flavored collection and her desire to rock. (This 1998 Miami New Times article delves into the intricacies of everything.) Yet, even with that, she seemed destined for big things—until Atlantic Records, a mere three songs into her sophomore set for them, pulled out the rug from beneath her. In short: She sought to be an artist, while they saw her as a product; and when she wouldn’t play the game their way, they took her off the shelf. Karlzen’s own website chronicles her post-Atlantic life, but suffice it to say: She soldiered on—and, at some point, moved from the warmth of the Florida sun to the chill of Wisconsin winters. Took time off to raise a family. And, too, recorded and released several more gems, including Wanderlust Diaries in 2007 and Shine in 2021.
For All That We Dreamed Of—her seventh long player—weaves together the common threads of pop, country, rock, and folk into a fabric that’s simultaneously sturdy and soft. The 12-track set opens with “Blindsided,” about how her first boyfriend turned out to be gay, while the catchy “My Typewriter” celebrates writers who long for the distraction-free writing experience. “Coffee Shop,” for its part, pours a smooth brew with folky and poppy overtones. Her spin on Gram Parsons’ “She” adds a punky spice to the goings-on; it’s less a sad country lament and more a riveting remembrance.
The sweeping “History” chronicles a relationship that’s seen its share of ups and downs sans bitterness. “Save a Song” ups the ante with a sentiment I think most fans of the arts share; we live in a time when AI-driven everything is stealing the soul from the arts. “Night of a Million Moons,” on the other hand, is a touching memoir that both celebrates and pays tribute to her mother. “There Is a Time,” originally by the Dillards, ups the tempo while adding a philosophical quotient to the goings-on.
“Rat Love” is a song my cats have taken to—nah, just kidding. It’s a fun song, however, that reminds us that—no matter outward appearances—“love is love.” “Why do we care who loves who?” she sings. “Regret,” meanwhile, delves into the second-guesses that sometimes keep us up at night; it’s a tight and concise rocker that’s accented by a cool electric guitar courtesy of Jansen Press, who also produced 10 of the tracks.
The ruminative “Franklin” slows things down; it’s Karlzen at the piano reflecting on matters close to her heart: “I’m going to scream into the darkness/run till I don’t know/bury every memory out in the snow/and wonder how you let your life go.” The album ends with “Heading Out to Sea,” which puts to a catchy melody a sentiment I think most artistic-minded folks will identify with: “You can work your whole life long just trying to write a song/no one will ever hear.” So we vow to finally put the song—or book, sculpture or artwork—to bed, leave it behind, get on the rest of our lives. We don’t, of course: There’s always another song, another book, another blog post. (To borrow a quote from Michael Corleone, “Just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in!”)
Did I mention how the album plays like a reunion with an old friend? No, I see I edited that sentence out. Well, that’s how For All That We Dreamed Of comes across to me. Listening to it is akin to catching up with a long-ago pal, be it in a bar or coffeeshop. Hopes and dreams matter regardless of one’s age, of course, but at a certain point they somehow seem less important than the grist that accents a lived life, and the love and loss we all face. We listen to and commiserate with each other’s ups and downs, but above all appreciate the fact that we’re still standing.
Best I can tell, the album is not available on the streaming services, but can be purchased direct from Karlzen’s website. It’s well worth the $20.
The Old Grey Cat 