Archive for the ‘Courtney Marie Andrews’ Category

Years long ago, when newspapers were a thing, I routinely read the “Family Circus” comic strip, though it was, at least during the week, more of a one-panel oval. Created by Bill Keane in 1960, it focused on a family with four children – and a ghost called “Not Me.” Whenever a kid caused a catastrophe of some kind, the stern mom or dad would ask who was responsible. The kid, in turn, would shrug his or her shoulders while “Not Me” zoomed out of the room. 

I can’t help but think of it when listening to Courtney Marie Andrews’ “It Must Be Someone Else’s Fault,” the latest teaser track from her forthcoming Old Flowers album. The song artfully puts into words a common response to life’s heartaches, heartbreaks and hardships – blaming everyone but ourselves for what’s come to pass:

Oh, but it must be someone else’s fault
Must be someone else’s heart who tainted mine
No, I cannot be to blame for the story of this pain
Oh, it must be someone else’s fault…

On Instagram, she explained that the song is “rooted in taking ownership of our own story and pain. I wrote this in Washington state one spring afternoon, and the message was something I’d tried to put to song for a long time.”

She also notes that “[t]he video embodies the power of sisterhood, and our ancestral trauma through the power of movement. Through these movements, I hope to embody the strength of our lineage, and overcome this old pain.” It may sound silly to dance the generational blues away, but the study of epigenetics demonstrates that trauma, while not ingrained into our DNA per se, is indeed passed down via familial lines. (See this BBC Future article for more.) There’s long been a debate about whether nature or nurture is the predominate influence on who we, as individuals, are; in truth, it’s a bit of both and, either/or, it matters less than self-awareness feeding self-actualization. To paraphrase one of my favorite soliloquies from Joan of Arcadia, we’re responsible for everything we touch and for everything that touches us.

All that science-minded philosophizing aside, “It Must Be Someone Else’s Fault” is a captivating country-inflected tune that features Courtney’s vocal prowess in full flower. Play it once and you’ll play it twice, then five more times. It’s a great song that, as Courtney’s songs often do, echoes the ages.

In today’s world, it’s easy to explore an artist’s oeuvre. Pre-Internet, not so much. In my slice of suburban America in the late 1970s and early ‘80s, one had few options for digging into rock ’n’ roll’s past beyond flipping through the racks of the local record stores and checking the song titles on the back of the LPs in hopes that they contained the older song or songs you heard Ed Sciaky play the previous afternoon. 

Top 40 radio only played current chart hits, while the AOR stations cherry-picked recent releases that adhered to the rock orthodoxy and programmed them alongside popular platters from the late 1960s onward; the same held true at mellower WIOQ, although its deejays – such as Sciaky – occasionally featured deep tracks from albums past and present. The same closed approach could be found on WPEN-AM, an oldies station I listened to on weekends; it only featured rock ’n’ pop hits from the mid-‘50s through the early ‘60s.

New releases were easy to find – even the mom-and-pop record store I frequented stocked them, as they were the bread and butter of the music industry – though singles and albums on smaller labels could be hit or miss. The music magazines helped fill the knowledge gap for new releases, of course, as there were far more than made it to the airwaves, and sometimes the old – but, by and large, their focus was on the present and future, not the past.

Which is where record guides proved handy. These days, if the various Facebook groups I belong to are representative of the wider world, many music fans decry reviews and such all-encompassing guides as the Rolling Stone Record Guide – especially when they’re critical of their favorites. But to this kid in the early ‘80s, they were necessary for navigating the canons of established artists and bands – as well as discovering older acts that the established history (aka rock radio) had bypassed.

In 1979 or ’80, I bought the red version of the Rolling Stone Record Guide; in 1983, I ponied up the cash for the second. They are among the most important books in my life, sharing space with such tomes as Truman Capote’s Other Voices, Other Rooms, John Irving’s Hotel New Hampshire and Jayne Anne Phillips’ Machine Dreams. Sure, sometimes they gave my favorites one- or two-stars (or, in the case of ONJ, none) – but so what? A good or bad review only reflects the writer’s opinion. Period. And, too, it forced me to think through what I liked about the albums and why. 

In fact, my main criticism of the tomes isn’t that they sometimes say mean or petty things about a few of my favorite artists, as that’s de rigueur for dorm-room debates (which, in a sense, the two editions represent), but is the same issue I have with much of music criticism (including, at times, my own in this blog). Making great music isn’t akin to making a model airplane – it’s about intangibles that, as often as not, have more to do with the listener(s): Who we are, where we are in our lives, and what’s going on in the wider world. There’s no right or wrong, per se, just right or wrong for us.

Such is the case for this year for me, at any rate. Much new music has passed me by not because of the merits (or demerits) therein, but that – due to the pandemic – my headspace is elsewhere. That said, there have been some new songs and albums have found their way into heavy rotation within my den…

1) Courtney Marie Andrews – “If I Told.” From every indication, aka the new songs I’ve heard her play in her livestreams, Courtney’s forthcoming album, Old Flowers, is sure to be a five-star affair. Even if it’s not, this song just tugs at the heartstrings. 

2) Jess Williamson – “Infinite Scroll.” I just wrote about Williamson’s latest album, Sorceress, yesterday; to my ears, this disco-light number conjures Yvonne Elliman’s “If I Can’t Have You,” but maintains its independence all the same. “Time did unfold like an infinite scroll” – that sums up life when young, if you think about it. It’s just great.

3) Neil Young – “Try.” After 45 years, Neil’s legendary Homegrown album is finally slated for released in June. For those unaware of its history, Neil planned on releasing the album in 1975 only to decide at the last minute to put out Tonight’s the Night instead. Based on this track, it has the markings of an instant classic.

4) Lucy Rose – “Question It All.” Even if my Tyler the Cat wasn’t featured in the video at the 28-second mark, this single from the British singer-songwriter would be getting my attention. As I mentioned in my First Impressions piece on it, it’s essentially a Marie Bracquemond painting set to song.

5) Emma Swift – “I Contain Multitudes.” On Bob Dylan’s 79th birthday (May 24th), Emma announced her next project: a collection of Bob Dylan covers that she’s dubbed Blonde on the Tracks. That she’s including this, one of the bard’s latest releases, is way cool.

Days blur together. Nights, too. The rinse-and-repeat life has gotten old for everyone, as has the incompetent, incoherent and intolerable hack whose mismanagement led us to this abyss. But for 70 minutes yesterday on YouTube Live, Courtney Marie Andrews provided a respite from the madness and sadness that accents life during the great pandemic. She sang songs old and new, including a few requests and a beautiful rendition of John Prine’s “Angel From Montgomery.”

The entire show can be watched here:

Unlike her never-ending livestream event from a few weeks back with the Tallest Man on Earth, Sam Evian and Hannah Cohen, this one was perfectly paced. Songs flowed. Her voice soared. Souls were soothed. I should mention that the show served a purpose larger than lifting spirits: It was to raise funds for her bandmates, who are – like many others – out of work. (I donated what we likely would’ve paid for two concert tickets to see her, $50.) 

She said, near the end, that she hopes to do another livestream event and sing a few more of the requests, which she gathered from her social-media accounts. I’ll be happy to donate again, no matter what she plays, but… as fate dictates, two years ago today – not long after seeing her in our old (and missed) hometown of Philadelphia – I posted this top 5, Timeless Songs, which collected tunes I thought would be cool for Courtney to cover in concert. I’d still love to hear those songs, but now have additional suggestions…

Which leads to today’s Top 5: Song Requests for CMA’s Next Livestream. With one exception, they’re all covers because… well, I love cover versions. They’re cool.

1) Diane and I still talk about “Warning Sign,” an unreleased song Courtney performed at her 2018 show at the Boot & Saddle in Philly, with fondness. It sounded like a long-lost Dan Penn tune, just about. Now, stripping the song to an acoustic core might be difficult, but still… I’d love to hear her try.

2) “Prayer in Open D” is, hands down, my favorite Emmylou Harris song, and its lyrics take on an even greater poignancy now: “I can find no bridge for me to cross/No way to bring back what is lost…” Courtney is one of few singers who could do it justice. 

3) “All My Trials” is an old folk song that’s been covered many times through the years by everyone from Peter, Paul & Mary to Paul McCartney. One of my favorite renditions of it, though, is by Anita Carter of the Carter Family. It seems apropos for these times…

4) On that never-ending livestream I referenced above, Courtney and pals performed not one, not two, but four Neil Young songs – “One of These Days” and “Unknown Legend” from Harvest Moon, “Helpless” from CSNY’s Deja Vu, and “Motion Pictures” from On the Beach. Originally for this one, on social media, I suggested one of two classic Neil songs – “Powderfinger” or “Human Highway.” But the more I think about it, this song from his recent Colorado album seems a better fit – “Where did all the people go?/Why did they fade away from me?/They meant so much to me and now I know/That they’re here to stay in my heart.”

5) Jackson Browne released “A Little Soon to Say” a few weeks back, after it was revealed that he was recovering from COVID-19. Although written before the pandemic, its lyrics seem appropriate to today: “I wanna see you holdin’ out your light/I wanna see you light the way/But whether everything will be alright/It’s just a little soon to say…”

 

Make no mistake: We have been here before. The 1918-20 flu pandemic infected some 500 million people around the globe, with experts citing anywhere from 17 to 100 million succumbing to it. Social-distancing measures were employed in some U.S. cities, and while they fared much better health-wise than those that didn’t, they suffered economic downturns. Life looked like it might be forever changed. But it wasn’t. As this World Economic Forum article shows, once the flu faded away, life pretty much picked up where it had left off.

That doesn’t lessen the stress of today’s stay-at-home orders, grocery shortages, economic disruptions and the incompetent federal response, mind you, or the fear of falling victim to COVID-19. The days may blur into weeks and the weeks may soon morph into months, but we, as a people, will endure.

That said, to me it feels like we’re stuck in the opening stanza of “Band on the Run” by Paul McCartney and Wings: “Stuck inside these four walls/never seeing no one…”

I haven’t been listening to much in the way of new music these days, preferring instead to treat the isolation blues with a heap of old favorites, including (but not limited to) McCartney, Rumer, Bob Seger, Bruce Springsteen, Suzanne Vega, Neil Young and, though she’s not “old” per se, Courtney Marie Andrews. There’s a comfort to be found in their tried-and-true grooves. They soothe the soul.

I thought I’d share select songs from some of them today.

Courtney Marie tapped into the collective unconscious for her 2016 Honest Life album, a set o’ songs I consider one of the best of the 2010s. “Put the Fire Out” slays me every time I hear it, especially when the backup voices come in on “hear the rock ’n’ roll at the Blue Moon Tavern.”

On a not unrelated subject, I experienced something of a spacetime anomaly in early March when I celebrated my 30th anniversary at my 23-year-old company. (I was grandfathered in during several takeovers, for those curious.) Anyway, the company doles out virtual tokens for such events, which can then be used to pick out a reward or rewards from a fairly extensive catalog. I used mine to get Diane the latest iPad Mini and both of us the Apple HomePod, as I’ve wanted one since it was first introduced. It may not be an audiophile’s dream, but the sound is excellent – and we subscribe to Apple Music, so it works out.

The first thing I asked Siri to play is a song I never tire of:

This morning’s picks included Van Morrison’s Inarticulate Speech of the Heart, which flows through and buttresses the soul like few others. It’s been one of my favorites of his since first hearing it during my college years; the poetic “Rave on John Donne” with its literary references and floating saxophone stops time for me.

Last night, I watched the April 7, 1979 episode of Saturday Night Live on Hulu, though not for the skits but the musical guest: Rickie Lee Jones, who performed “Chuck E.’s in Love” and “Coolsville.” This morning, after Van, I played her debut for what must be the 1000th time in my life (okay, maybe I’m exaggerating!). It sounds as fresh today as it did in 1979.

Stay safe, people.