It’s been a long day, and I’m a bit tired, but Odysseus never complained when he had a long day at the oars getting back to Ithaca, so I think I can handle a music review that finishes up around bedtime.
Disc 1843 is…Kingmaker
Artist: Tami Neilson
Year of Release: 2022
What’s up with the Cover? I’m not entirely sure, but I like it. A bunch of stylized imagery collaged together. This cover makes me want to see an entire deck of cards based on this art, maybe being played in a smoky lounge frequented only by magicians or interdimensional travelers.
If the regulars look up and stare when you enter, don’t worry they’re not being rude. It’s just you looked so…normal. Pull up a chair, note that the lids on the drinks aren’t just for show, and apologies in advance for the fluctuating gravity.
How I Came To Know It: I’ve been a fan of Tami Neilson since her 2014 album “Dynamite!” and this was just me buying her latest record when it came out.
How It Stacks Up: I have (or have had) three Tami Neilson records, and “Kingmaker” comes in at…#2.
Ratings: 4 stars
“Kingmaker” is a record infused with all manner of roots music, with Tami Neilson exploring the sounds of traditional country, southern devotionals, Spanish rhythms, blues and what I can only call “Bond movie theme”. It could easily have been a disparate mess but Neilson deftly pulls it off, creating a cohesive and powerful piece of art.
It helps that she is gifted with a big bold voice that can sing it sweet or shake the rafters, as the occasion demands. Many singers who try on different vocal approaches come off sounding affected and disingenuous. Not so Neilson, who inhabits every style and makes it her own. Combined with that power, she knows how to rely on tone and phrasing to pull you through each twist and turn while keeping the story at the forefront.
In addition to Neilson’s throaty and golden tone, the record is held together by strong themes of feminism, female empowerment and some pointed calling out of the small-minded men threatened by such topics. If that’s you, mister, this record may not be for you – or maybe it is more for you than most.
In any event, art can’t deliver any message if the art isn’t any
good. At that point no one is looking (or in this case, listening). Step one is
always the same: write great songs. Fortunately Neilson is up to the task.
The record opens with the title track, with a song that answers the question, “what if you countrified a James Bond song, and then made it about Vesper Lynd instead?” I’ve always liked the idea of rebooting the Bond series with a woman protagonist and if they ever did so, then this tragically triumphant little ditty would make a great tune for the opening credits.
Neilson follows this up with the record’s true gem, “Careless Woman”, a true foot stomper that dares you to find the nearest drum and play along. All that noise making is paired with lyrics that make it clear that being heard is the literal point. Or as the chorus so aptly sums it up:
“A careless woman, she play too rough
She laugh too loud, she talk too much
Too much, too much, she’s just too much
I wanna be her when I grow up.”
From here, Neilson slides into the stylings of old West reverb with “Baby, You’re a Gun.” Our song’s protagonist may seem graceful and demur, but cheat at cards with her at the table and it won’t matter if you’re one of those interdimensional magicians I mentioned earlier – you’ll regret it.
The middle of the record dips just a bit but quickly recovers with the throaty bluesy number “the Grudge” before finishing off with “Ain’t My Job”. “Ain’t My Job” is a fine bookend to “Careless Woman.” Where the latter is a song about finding your voice, “Ain’t My Job” turns the perspective and reminds the audience that while they can project whatever expectations they want, it ain’t Neilson’s job to fulfill them. If you don’t like it, that’s OK, you don’t have to listen.
As for me, I liked this album plenty. It is loaded with great rhythms, dynamic range, and whip-smart lyrics with something to say.
Best tracks: Kingmaker, Careless Woman, Baby You’re a Gun, I Can Forget, the Grudge, Ain’t My Job
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