Tuesday, July 1, 2014

CD Odyssey Disc 635: Mae Moore

Happy Canada Day!

I spent a goodly portion of mine rearranging and cleaning my house. I can’t remember the last time it was this clean in the computer/painting room, but I like it. My whole mind feels calmer as a result.

Disc 635 is….Oceanview Motel
Artist: Mae Moore

Year of Release: 1990

What’s up with the Cover? Mae Moore stands on the beach, looking thoughtful and arty. She looks beautiful, but what’s she doing with her hands? Is she counting? Have her fingers gone numb? The answer is lost to the mists of time.

How I Came To Know It: I saw a video for “Red Clay Hills” back in 1991 and loved the song. I found the album it was on and went from there (it wasn’t hard, since Moore only had one album at the time). “Oceanview Motel” is one of the first albums I ever bought on CD format and I’m glad I still have it.

How It Stacks Up:  I have three Mae Moore albums (her first three). “Oceanview Motel” is by far my favourite.

Rating:  4 stars

There is an Oceanview Motel on the Malahat Drive as you head north out of my home town of Victoria. I get out there every now and then, and it always makes me think of this album, which has been in my life almost as long as I’ve been making that drive.

Like me, Moore is a naturalized local from way back and I suppose it is possible the Oceanview Motel mentioned in “Red Clay Hills” is the same one I drive by two or three times a year. Even if it weren’t that would be fine, because the sentiment expressed in the song would translate to any of the dozens of hotels with that name throughout the world, and to any of the many people driving by and wistfully thinking of a simpler way of life.

The red clay hills mentioned in the song are giving way to development, but despite the obvious tragedy in the song, Moore doesn’t come off as overly judgmental, concluding the song with this verse:

“God knows you’ve got to make a living
It’s hard enough to make your way in the world these days
Everybody needs some kind of refuge
Like the peace I’ve found in these hills of red clay.”

Moore recounts what the beauty of that wild space means to her, and lets the listener make up their own mind about how they feel about their survival.

Even when striking a sad tone this is an album that is fundamentally optimistic. “Warm Side of Town” is a straight up love song and even songs where the relationship has its doubts like “Stepping Through Fire” and “Superstitious” are at their core upbeat and hopeful.

Like the social activism in “Red Clay Hills,” the heartache and breakup songs are relatively gentle and tinged with a soft edge of understanding. As Moore sings on “Where Loneliness Lives”:

“I know where loneliness lives
Right where it’s always been
Deep in a heart
That finds it hard to forgive
That’s where loneliness lives.”

The album is best when it is at its folksiest.  Moore has a sweet voice that at times has a jazz crooner quality to it, and the songs play well with her easy acoustic strumming. She is not content with simple arrangements however, and many songs work in trumpets and congas to give the record more of a contemporary sound, and add jazz and pop sensibilities. Sometimes this works, and sometimes it buries an otherwise pretty melody.

It isn’t a perfect record, and efforts at more pop-based arrangements like “I’ll Watch Over You” and “Nothing But the Truth” while well written have never totally worked for me. Fortunately, the record’s overall quality is excellent, and these lesser spots are few and far between.

Overall, the softness of “Oceanview Motel” is a refreshing change from overwrought heart-wrenching or political preaching common in similar music today.  This softness doesn’t in any way lessen the emotional impact of Moore’s songwriting or delivery. If anything it is a nice reminder that sometimes true beauty needs to steal its way into your soul quietly, like a whispered truth. Twenty-five years later, I still love hearing it.


Best tracks:   Red Clay Hills, Where Loneliness Lives, Down to the Wire, Warm Side of Town, Halfway Home, Stepping Through Fire

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